Clelia, an excellent new romance the whole work in five parts, dedicated to Mademoiselle de Longueville / written in French by the exquisite pen of Monsieur de Scudery, governour of Nostredame de la Garde.

CLELIA. A New Romance. The Fifth and Last PART.

The First BOOK.

WHilst Aronces was possest with an opinion that his present condition rendred him the most unhappy Man in the World, Horatius sometimes enjoy'd all the delectation that glory together with hope is capable to excite in a heart truely amorous. He tasted the joy of being satisfi'd with himself; which is the highest pleasure possible for a rational person to resent: He had perform'd a piece of singular service to his Country; and altho Aronces had disarm'd him, yet his last action afforded him satisfaction for that mis∣fortune. Besides Clelius being so favourable to him, he had reason to conceive that the end of the War would prove the beginning of his felicity. And in∣deed he perceiv'd so unanimous a Resolution in the Roman Citizens to defend themselves to the utmost, that he would not so much as entertain in his thoughts a possibility for Porsenna to become Master of Rome. What place soever he went into, afford∣ed him new cause of contentment, saving when he repair'd to Clelia, whom he alwaies found affected with the same aversion towards him. When he pass'd along the streets, the people attested his glo∣ry with a thousand acclamations; when he went to the Temple, he beheld Sacrifices offer'd there in thankfulness to the gods for the great action which he had perform'd; when he went to the Senate, he understood they had ordain'd a Statue to be erected to him as an eternal Monument of his valour: to con∣clude, only the fair eyes of Clelia depriv'd him of the hope, which fortune every where else suggested to him. And truly this was oftentimes sufficient to di∣sturb all the pleasure, that hope could give him. The next morning after that great exploit, which had rendr'd him so eminent in Rome, Clelius bringing him to his house, and presenting him to his Daughter, he found cause to believe that what he had done had no influence to change the heart of that fair Lady. At first Clelius having beheld her with a sufficiently cold air, was immediately, out of an excessive affection for his Country transported against her. How? (said he to her with a low but angry Tone) dare you ap∣pear sad, when I bring the Deliverer of Rome to you? and have you the boldness to discover in your eyes the tokens of that obstinate and unjust passion which you harbour in your mind? Clelia hearing her Father speak in this manner, blusht and cast down her eyes; so that Horatius not doubting, but that which Clelius spoke low to her, displeas'd her, was almost sorry for it, tho he apprehended the discourse could not but be in his favour. Wherefore advancing towards her, he interrupting the private communication, Permit me to ask you, Madam (said he, perceiving Clelius retire) whether the general fright yesterday did not reach you too, and whether you had the resolution to be∣hold from your windows, that multitude of enemies which would have surpriz'd the City, had not the bridge been broken down, at which they endeavour'd to enter. You speak very modestly of one of the fair∣est actions of the world (answer'd she) but to shew you that I am never unjust (added this prudent Lady) know, that tho you seem'd appointed by Destiny for the cause of the greatest infelicities of my life, never∣theless I did not cease to make vows in your behalf, when I saw you alone in the middle of the Bridge, sustaining the whole power of the Enemies. For in∣deed I saw all that pass'd in that great occasion; and I likewise beheld Aronces forbid his men to shoot at you, when you were in the River Tyber. I should my self have inform'd you, Madam, (repli'd Horatius) of that generosity of my Rival, tho you had not seen it; for I have heretofore often told you, that I yield to his merit and his vertue; 'tis only in point of Love that I contend with him for superiority. And to te∣stifie to you at least, Madam, that I do all that I can, know, I did not interrupt Clelius, but only because I apprehended he spoke sharply to you in my favour. I acknowledge it (answer'd Clelia) and I shall also acknowledge that you deserve my esteem and my friendship. Nevertheless, observing hope this day be∣come more prevalent in your heart, I shall tell you once more (generous Horatius) that it will be best for you not to flatter your self into an errour by it; since the more Aronces becomes unhappy, the more shall I be oblig'd to be faithful to him; and the more my Father persecutes me, the more resolvedness shall I have to withstand him. For in brief he has once given me to Aronces, and I have joyn'd in the gift; so that 'tis in the power of death alone to hin∣der me from being his. Moreover were he no longer mine, I have told you an hundred times, I should never be yours nor any others. Content your self with being belov'd by the whole People of Rome, enjoy quietly the glory you have acquir'd, and do not render your self miserable, for a person, that can never make you happy. Other visitants hereupon

arriving, Horatius was constrain'd to withdraw, his heart being so full, that he could not but manifest part of his grief. And therefore he made a low re∣verence, without being able to speak any thing to Clelia, saving by some glances not less sad than a∣morous. As he came from thence he found Aemilius, who being unhappy as well as he, seem'd a fit person to be the confident of his sorrow. Walking along together, and Aemilius observing him very sad, What's the cause (said he to him) that you seem so melancholy in a day wherein you ought to know no other passion but joy? Alas Aemilius (cry'd Horatius) 'tis in vain that I have repell'd the enemies, since Aronces is not so absolutely Master of the Janiculum, which he hath seiz'd, as he is alwayes of the heart of Clelia; and should Fortune cause me to perform mi∣racles for the safety of Rome, I should not thereby be less unhappy, In which regard, I can assure you A∣ronces is not at present so miserable as I; undoubt∣edly no unhappiness being so unsupportable as that whereby we find, that what ought to produce our fe∣licity causes our misfortune. However (reply'd Aemi∣lius) your misery is not so extraordinary as mine; Clelia lov'd Aronces before she knew you; she has lov'd him ever since, and you have not been able to win her affection. But as for me, unfortunate as I am, I have seen the cruel Valeria not to hate me, du∣ring the time she believ'd Herminius was unfaithful and dead: but since she understood his being alive and innocent, she has ceas'd to love me, and depriv'd me of all hope for ever. Ah! Aemilius (answer'd Ho∣ratius) that which you say causes your regret, is the very thing that ought to afford you consolation; For according to the transports of Love in which I am at present, I think if Clelia had lov'd me but only one day in all my life, the remembrance alone of so great a pleasure would suffice to keep me from being mise∣rable the remainder of my days. But when I consider that my Rival is belov'd, that according to all proba∣bilities he will be ever so, that I have never been so, for so much as one moment, and that perhaps I ne∣ver shall be during my life; patience forsakes me, de∣spair seizes me, and I wish for death every instant. Had I the same sentiments as heretofore (continu'd Horatius) when I carry'd away Clelia, I could easily induce Clelius to constrain her to marry me. After what I have perform'd, the people would approve the violence, and the Senate in the present posture of affairs would not offer to oppose my happiness: but (Aemilius) I know to my misery, that unless Clelia bestow her self, I cannot wish to possess her; since 'tis the heart of that cruel person which can cause my fe∣licity. But (alas) that (to my misfortune) is in the power of a Rival whom I admire in spight of my self, for whom I bear as much esteem as hatred, to whom I am so highly oblig'd, that I cannot injure him without ingratitude, and who sets me such great examples of generosity, that it's necessary to be a Heroe to surpass him. Cease therefore to bemoan your self, or at the best think me the greatest object of commiseration. Yet on the other side generous Horatius (reply'd Aemilius) did you know what it is to have been lov'd and to be so no longer, you would change the thoughts; for no favourable glance has been formerly obtain'd, but then causes a thousand regrets; not an advantageous word heard, but occa∣sions a thousand torments; and the opposition of mi∣sery to happiness, produces such a strange hurly-bur∣ly in an amorous breast, that the insensibility of a Mi∣stress is an affliction not comparable to what I speak of. Did I love a person insensible in reference to all love (answer'd Horatius) you would have reason: but I love a person that has a soft heart, that is able to love both with order and constancy, and conse∣quently to resist whatever opposes the affection she has in her soul. When I spoke of an insensible Per∣son (reply'd Aemilius) I meant in respect to you a∣lone; for, as I said before, 'tis a more exquisite mise∣ry to be belov'd no more, than to have never been lov'd at all. I conceive indeed (said Horatius) it would be a greater affliction to fall into poverty af∣ter having been rich, than to have been alwaies poor; but 'tis not so in love: for in my apprehension, the thought of never having been lov'd, not being so at present, and despairing ever to be so, is the most cru∣el and in supportable of all those that can be inspir'd by an infortunate passion. Aemilius answer'd Hora∣tius again, and Horatius yielded not to Aemilius; so that they parted without having convinc'd one ano∣ther. But while these two Lovers bemoaned them∣selves together, there were others also who did the like. All Plotina's Lovers, looking upon Amilcar, as he that of all the rest injur'd them most, scarce hat∣ed one another at all, but hated him excessively, tho they dar'd not to express it. Themistus being always absent, and alwayes discontented, lamented himself amongst his Friends. Artemidorus being alwayes lov'd by two very aimable persons, had not a little to do. Spurius was displeas'd with himself that he had not been able to out-do Herminius, who signa∣liz'd himself most, next Horatius. And Mutius being as ambitious as amorous, was desperately afflicted for that he had not been able to defend the Janiculum, and had been wounded: for altho the wound he receiv'd was not dangerous, yet it con∣fin'd him to his Chamber; where abandoning him∣self to regret, he revolv'd in his thoughts what ever most difficult attempts a great Spirit incensed both against Love and Fortune could devise to overcome his misfortune. But having a Soul too noble to seek ways that were not honourable, he fanci'd nothing but what was grand and heroical. Herminius is belov'd (said he within himself) and deserv'es to be so; Aemilius is an amiable Person, and was not hat∣ed whilst Valeria believ'd Herminius had betray'd her and was dead; and Spurius is subtle, daring, dex∣trous and amorous. What then shall I do (continu'd he) to overcome such formidable Rivals? I must do some action transcending that of Horatius (ad∣ded this afflicted Lover) and signalize my self so re∣markably, that my Rivals may not afterwards dare to stand in competition with me for Valeria. I must save Rome with one stroke, if it be possible; and indeed it is too shameful to see it Captive when it boasts to be free, and to see it more miserable when it has no Tyrants, than when it was under the Tyranny of the Tarquins. After which Mutius having thought upon what he would undertake, took no care to be cur'd speedily, to the end he might execute the great design he had determin'd of in his mind. In the mean time Aronces maintaining his Conquest, and ta∣king care to cause the Janiculum to be more fortifi'd on the side towards Rome, suffer'd more misery than can be imagin'd: for he well perceiv'd, that since this famous City could not be surpris'd at first, it would be very difficult to become Master of it by force, un∣less it were in a time so long, that Horatius would per∣haps have leisure to work some change on the senti∣ments

of Clelia: not that he could believe her cap∣able of infidelity; but tho he could not believe it, yet he could fear it; and the glory of Horatius, the au∣thority of Clelius, the people's affection towards his Rival, the little probability there was that Porsenna would consent to his marriage, all these circumstan∣ces consider'd, together with his own absence, added weight to his fear, and diminish'd his hope. Never∣theless he trusted to the fidelity of his Illustrious Friends at Rome, and sometimes imagin'd secret consolations to himself, which enabled him to sup∣port all his misfortunes. Moreover, a sentiment of glory adding it self to that of love, the care of the Siege almost wholly imploy'd his mind. But that which rendered him more unhappy, was, that he was constrain'd to see Tarquin and Sextus. He knew that the first always lov'd Clelia; and looking upon Sex∣tus as one that had lov'd her, that might still love her, and that had caus'd the death of Lucretia, he hated and disdain'd him, tho he was not ignorant, that as voluptuous and unjust a Prince as he was, he had some qualities in him not unpleasing to such as did not know him. Aronces likewise understood by a spy, that the Senate in testimony of greater acknowledgement to Horatius, had bestow'd on him as great a compass of Lands as two Oxen could in one day enclose with a furrow; that all the Inhabitants of Rome had par∣ticularly made him a present of something or other, to the end he might not suffer any inconvenience du∣ring the Siege; and that Horatius making a generous use of the same, had not only given to the poor all that they had offer'd to him, but moreover all that he had received from the rich. By which means the good fortune and the virtue of Horatius being alike terrible to him, this Prince was extremely miserable, and found no comfort, saving when he was free to go and entertain the Princess of the Leontines, a few mo∣ments, with discourse of his infelicities. Which not∣withstanding he could not do often at the beginning of the Siege, by reason his presence was necessary in so many places, that he had scarce time to go see the Queen of Clusin. In the mean time it being resolv'd at a Council of War not to make more attempts to take Rome by force, order was taken to famish it. To which purpose Porsenna caus'd little Forts to be rais'd at e∣qual distances about the City, and the Tyber to be se∣cur'd both above and below Rome, with Boats fastned together with chains; all these Boats being defended by Towers which were rais'd to that end on each side of the River; besides that there were also guards of Souldiers placed in several stations, which were re∣liev'd from time to time. These Boats serving at that time for a Bridge to Porsenna's Army, the Tarquinians pass'd over from the other side of Tyber, and extended their Camp into the Plain, after having pitcht upon a very advantageous place, where they might easily hinder any thing from being carried into Rome on that side, and from whence they sent parties out to waste, to make spoil in all the adjacent parts about that City. Rome was by this means begirt on all sides; but the more it was straightned, the Romans became the more couragious. Herminius being desirous to sig∣nalize himself, and accounting it a disparagement to be coop'd up, undertook to fetch provision into the City. Not that he believ'd that what he could pro∣cure brought in, would be capable to make it subsist any long time; but being a person of great prudence, he understood it was requisite to amuse the people, And he had occasion to take this course with them; for as soon as all the avenues and passages of Rome were secur'd by the Enemy, the common sort began to have an extreme dread of Famine. But altho this fear seem'd but to encrease their hatred against Tar∣quin, yet there was cause to suspect it might at length administer occasion to a sedition; it being natural e∣nough to the poor to murmur against the rich, and likewise sufficiently ordinary for the rich to have no great pity of the poor. Herminius therefore minding to prevent so great a mischief, told Valerius, it was requisite to send to the neighbouring people, to the end to obtain of them such things as they had most need of; and that, for his part, he would engage to secure the entrance of Convoys into Rome. Whereupon some persons were sent out by night, to go to the people of Latium, and to oblige them to succour the City; and others also to Cumae of Campania, and to Pometia: but the Latins refus'd to take any side between Rome and the Tarqui∣nians, and they of Cumae answered ambiguously; on∣ly the people of Pometia promis'd provisions, con∣ditionally they might be oblig'd to nothing more than to furnish the Waggons which were to carry them. Wherefore Herminius to acquit himself of his word, one night when the Moon did not shine, issu'd forth of the City with some Troops, and taking a by∣way, which the Besiegers had not took care to secure, happily executed his design, and brought a compe∣tent supply of mouth-munition into Rome. The Ene∣mies indeed being aware of it, there was a very sharp conflict between them and the Troops that guarded the Convoy; but the valour of Herminius held them off, till all the Waggons were enter'd into the City, without so much as the miscarriage of one; and this Illustrious Roman having born the stroke of the Ene∣mies as long time as was requisite for the executing of his purpose, re-entred into Rome, about the break of day, in the sight of all the people, who beheld him as a second Protector, next Horatius. Moreover, to the end this might have the greater effect upon the minds of the multitude, all these Waggons were made to pass through the principal streets, before they went to the publick Store-houses. By which means they murmur'd less for some dayes than they had done formerly. But for that they were at that time above 300000 persons in the City, this supply was quickly spent; and the dearness of provision encreasing from day to day, the repinings of the Commonalty began also afresh. It was in vain that Valerius, Clelius, Horati∣us, Herminius and the rest endeavour'd to appease the People; for the fear of Famine, and the present suffer∣ing render'd them so perverse that whatever was re∣solv'd upon, incens'd them. When sallies were made, it was said they were intended only to occasion the slaughter of men, and that there might be a less number to feed; if none were attempted, it was pub∣lish'd about as cowardize to suffer themselves to be shut up by so few Besiegers: If the Publick Stores were set open, they rumor'd that all the Provisions would soon be consum'd and that only the creatures of Tarquin gave this counsel, which was far more dangerous than it seem'd: If there were any speech of shutting the same up, and preserving the Publick Provisions against extremity, presently it was threat∣ned to set fire on the Stores: In brief, nothing could be more difficult than to find out some fit means to compose the discontents of the City. Porsenna and Tarquin having intelligence of this disorder, sent Heralds to demand to speak to the people. Then it was that all the intelligent persons in Rome stood in

fear; for they conceiv'd it was to make some Pro∣position of Peace, with intention to cause the peo∣to mutiny, if it were not receiv'd. Wherefore the Senate was minded to send back the Heralds un∣heard. But the multitude was so tumultuous, that it was necessary to hear them; all that could be ob∣tain'd from the provoked people, was, that those He∣ralds should not enter into the City, but make their Propositions at the Gate. To which being according∣ly oblig'd, they declar'd there aloud, that Porsenna sent to acquaint the Romans, that if they desir'd to be deliver'd from the War and Famine, and to a∣void inevitable destruction, it was yet possible, and they needed onely to admit Tarquin, to secure their Peace; Porsenna engaging to cause him to pass an Amnesty for all that was past, and to protect them also against him in case he falsifi'd his word. The Consuls trembled at this Proposal, fearing lest the present misery might induce the people to pre∣fer a shameful Peace before a glorious War: but the matter had a better event than they imagin'd. The name of Tarquin was so odious to the People, that what Porsenna caus'd to be declar'd to them, to the intent to cause the sedition, produc'd a calm; for scarce had the Heralds done their Message, but the multitude who had beset all the Ramparts, relating to one another confusedly the Proposition that Por∣senna made to them, cri'd all with one voice, No, no 'tis better to die, and we will rather set our City on fire, than receive Tarquin into it: and their fury transported them in such sort, that they had shot their Arrows against the Heralds, and violated the Law of Nations, if the Consuls had not restrain'd them. So these Messengers of Porsenna were enforc∣ed to depart; and the people, after this, seeing no∣thing to be chosen but War or the Tyranny of Tar∣quin, generously resolv'd upon suffering, and en∣dur'd all the inconveniences of this Siege with ad∣mirable patience. Soon after, a private Council of War was held in order to attempt to break those two Bridges of Boats which secur'd the River, since had it been free on one side onely, Porsenna's design had been destroy'd, and this Prince would have found a necessity of giving over the Siege. It had been suf∣ficiently experienc'd that sallies serv'd only to weak∣en the Cavalry which was in the City; for there be∣ing no other Forces in the Compagne design'd to re∣lieve it, all sallies were unprofitable, and did not suf∣ficiently facilitate the passage of Victuals for the sub∣sistence of it. So that the only way to deliver it, was to render their River free. To which end it was re∣solv'd an attempt should be made, and that above Rome rather than below, since by that means it would be commodious for the Vessels to come down with the stream, for carrying necessaries into the City; where∣as on the other side it would be requisite to row up against it. The on-set indeed was very difficult, but the designing to put good Rowers into all the Boats appointed for the attaque, made that no obsta∣cle. Themistus, tho a stranger, was called to this se∣cret Council, and propounded to set the Enemies Boats on fire, in case they could not be forc'd; and accordingly preparation was made for this. In order to which, two Boats were fill'd with several kinds of combustible things as Pitch, Sulphur, Bitumen, and divers Gummes; and a hundred others were chos∣en out and fill'd with resolute Souldiers. Every Boat had a particular Commander in it; and besides the Souldiers, and the Rowers, there were also men with Axes to break and loosen the Chains which fastned the Boats to one another. This enterprize being ac∣compani'd with much danger and difficulty, all the Gallants were eager to be in it. Mutius, who was almost cured of his wound, desir'd the command of a Boat; Themistus, Herminius, Aemilius and Spurius did the like: Artemidorus and Merigenes were in the same Boat, Amilcar was in that of Herminius, Zeno∣crates commanded one by himself, in which Octavius was pleas'd to be; Horatius had the conduct of one of the Fire-boats, which was fastned to his own, and Herminius had charge of the other, altho Mutius had us'd all possible endeavours to get that employment. Damon, Sicinius, Acrisius, and divers other Gallants, were dispers'd in all the Boats. In the mean time, tho all care had been taken to keep this enter∣prize secret, yet the Enemies got intelligence of it, and prepar'd themselves to be assaulted. But for that they could not learn whether they should be attaqued above or below Rome, they were necessitated to di∣vide their Forces; and moreover, the better to de∣ceive them, a false attaque was thought fit to be giv∣en on that side which was not intended for the place of on-set. The Tuscans and Tarquinians had rais'd little Forts at both ends of that Bridge of Boats, which stopt up the River, and serv'd for the communication of the distant quarters of their Army: & this no doubt augmented the difficulty of the Romans attempt. But how hard soever it was, it was resolv'd upon; and all things being ready for it, precisely at midnight, all the Boats appointed for both purposes put forth up∣on the River. But those which were to make the false attaque, set out first, to the end to divert the enemies Forces to that side, and a quarter of an hour after, the others moving in order, and taking up almost the whole breadth of the River, in several ranks went to encounter the Enemies with so much greater hope of Victory, for that they knew Aronces was not on that side, pretending to make use of their Fire-boats ac∣cording to the occasion they should have for them. But, for that it is alwaies a little lighter in the night∣time upon the water than upon the land, the Tuscans confusedly perceiv'd those that were coming to at∣taque them, and provided for their defence. So that the Bridge of Boats, and two little Forts defending it, were soon beset with Souldiers, and especially with Bow-men, who seeing the Romans within reach of their Arrows, shot with such eagerness, that the mul∣titude of Arrows made a greater darkness therea∣bouts than that of the night. But because they shot at a venture, this first discharge had no great effect, and hinder'd not the Romans from approaching the Bridge with cries so fierce, that they seem'd to be a presage of Victory. All the Boats as they drew near to those which upheld the Tarquinians Bridge, hook∣ed themselves thereunto, and they planted little Ladders against them for the Souldiers to mount upon the Bridge, whilst the work-men did what they could with their Axes to break the Chains that linked the Enemies Boats together. On the o∣ther side, Horatius and Herminius, who were the chief Commanders in this enterprize, went to fasten Fire-boats to the middle of the Bridge, in spite of the Enemies opposition; and having left a hidden fire in the two Boats, which would break out sud∣denly after they retir'd, one went towards the right hand, and the other towards the left, to encourage their men to make themselves Masters of the Bridge, and to endeavour to mount upon it themselves,

which was no easie matter; for the Enemies who stood thick upon it with their swords in their hands, repell'd them impetuously either into their Boats or the Riv∣er. Mutius, Artemidorus and Merigenes mounted twice upon the Bridge, and were as often beat back into their Boat. Acrisius laying hold of a plank of the Bridge, and being almost got up, was wounded in the right hand: Zenocrates also mounted upon it coura∣geously; but for that they which follow'd him were cast into the River, he found himself alone amidst many enemies, who seizing upon him, threw him in∣to the River also on the other side the Bridge, after he had wounded one or two of them. Nevertheless los∣ing neither his courage nor his judgement, he swam back under the Enemies Bridge with his sword in his hand, and got into one of the Boats again, to return to the assault. Amilcar being got up the Bridge, and perceiving himself the sole man of his party there, counterfeited a Tuscan, and had the good fortune to leap back into Herminius's Boat without being taken by the Enemies. Horatius was four times repuls'd; Spurius had like to have been drown'd, and so had Aemilius; but Herminius was so fortunate, that he caus'd one of the Enemies Boats to be loosned, at the same time that the Fire-boats doing their effect immediate∣ly burnt down the middle of the Bridge, which con∣sisting only of planks and faggots was soon consumed. Then was there heard a most terrible noise, for the Ro∣mans sent forth a thousand cries of joy, and the Tuscans contrarily a thousand tumultuous shouts, which testi∣fi'd their astonishment; for the fire having taken a∣way the middle of the Bridge, depriv'd them of com∣munication from one side to the other, and opened a passage for a great Convoy which they understood was prepared in Boats under the walls of a little very strong Town, where the Romans knew the supply was which they expected. And things were according∣ly so happily executed, that the Convoy was already very neer, when the middle of the Bridge was burnt. Wherefore so soon as the fire mingled with Sulphur and Bitumen began to destroy the middle of the Bridg, Horatius & Herminius easily caus'd as many Boats to be loosned as was requisite for the passage of those which carried the Provision: for such as were appointed to that purpose, with great hooks dispers'd those burn∣ed Boats, which separated one from another, and be∣ing driven by the stream towards Rome, consum'd by degrees, and cover'd all the River with flaming wracks not without some terrour in the spectacle. In the mean time, as soon as the passage was open'd by the flame, the attaque of the Bridge was given over, there being no likelihood of doing any good upon the two Forts, and the only business being to procure a safe entry for the Convoy. Wherefore as soon as the River was free, at the first signal that was given of it, all the Boats drew together, and one half of them following Herminius went to meet the Convoy, and the other commanded by Horatius stay'd to guard the passage. At which time the Enemies discharg'd a storm of Darts both upon those that stay'd to guard it, and upon those that conducted the Convoy. Which while they were approaching some Gallants amongst the Enemies got into the Boats which remain'd at the two ends of the Bridge at the foot or the little Forts, and came forth to chase away the Romans from the place. And indeed they being assisted by those of their party, who still stood with their swords drawn upon both the ends of the broken Bridge, where they had at length stopt the course of the fire, Horatius be∣ing unable to master those that guided the Boats, was in a short time constrain'd to desert the passage of the River to the Enemies. So that when Hermini∣us came back with the Convoy, he found that he was to fight again if he intended to pass. It was about day-break, and precisely at that time the Prince of Messene coming to second Titus who commanded the Souldiers in the Boats, appear'd with his sword in his hand upon the end of the Bridge. But when he per∣ceiv'd Themistus in one of Horatius's Boats, he leap'd into one of those that maintain'd the passage, desir∣ing to take this opportunity to encounter his par∣ticular enemy amongst the enemies of the side he had chosen. Themistus also knowing him, caused his Boat to advance neerer than it was, and with a threatning action signifi'd to him that he was glad to see him in a place were he might evince that himself was more worthy of Lindamira than he. Matters standing thus, Herminius appear'd in the head of the Conduct of the Convoy; for Horatius was constrain'd by the advice of all the chief Officers to defer charging those that defended the passage, till they might be attaqued on both sides together. And accordingly Horatius and Herminius advancing at the same time, and being fol∣low'd by as many Boats as were necessary to possess the passage, went to charge them with their swords in hand. Whereupon ensued a very terrible com∣bate; for from the Forts and the two sides of the bro∣ken Bridge, a storm of Arrows like hail was sent both upon Herminius and Horatius. But without taking unprofitable care to secure themselves from a danger which they could not avoid, but by deserting their in∣terprize, they minded only the overcoming those who obstructed them. Horatius leapt into a Boat which Telanus defended, Herminius into another; Themistus and the Prince of Messene having the same purpose, executed it so exactly, that at the same time that The∣mistus leapt with his sword drawn into the Prince's Boat, the Prince pass'd into that of Themistus. But perceiving their errour, they endeavour'd either of them to return into his own Boat; which as they were doing, they grapled together, and fell both into the water. As they fell, they were parted by their own weight; and being both skilful in swimming, as soon as they got their heads above water, they approacht to one another and exchanged some blows; and this strange combat would probably have prov'd fatal to both, had not a Roman Boat drew towards these two Rivals. Which as soon as the Prince of Messene saw, he endeavour'd to avoid being taken, and began to swim towards one of the Forts; but finding that he had re∣ceived a slight wound in the right hand, his sword dropt from him. Wherefore Themistus seeing him with∣out arms, and streaming with bloud, would not kil him in that condition; but entring into the Boat which came to his succour, suffer'd him to get the bank of the River, where he was receiv'd by those of his party. In the mean time Horatius and Herminius being se∣conded by all the other Gallants, maugre the resist∣ance of the Tarquinians, sunk two Boats, slew almost all that were in the rest, and became at length so ab∣solute Masters of the passage, that they got the Con∣voy clear through it. They had a mind to have main∣tain'd it afterwards, but it was not to be done; for the Enemies possessing the Forts still, and the two ends of the Bridge, would not have suffer'd them in the place. So that it behov'd them to content themselves with carrying their Convoy to Rome, which was likewise more considerable in respect of the joy and hope it ex∣cited

in the people, than of the real succour it brought to the Publick necessity: for in these occasions, the multitude alwaies magnifies things, and do's not carry their fore-sight so far as to destroy the pleasure arising from a present relief. This victorious Fleet therefore return'd to Rome, which was received there with a thousand acclamations. It had cost the life of some few Souldiers, and their were also certain persons of quali∣ty wounded. Spurius was shot with an Arrow that rais'd his shoulder, Damon was wounded with a sword in the side, Horatius receiv'd a slight hurt under the right eye, and Meleagenes on the arm. But however, this Victory did not prove a bloudy one, and the acti∣on was accompani'd with great glory. The better to set it off to the people, thanks were render'd to the gods in all the Temples, the price of Victual was a∣bated, part of these Provisions brought into the City were distributed to the people, and they were put in hope that other Convoys would also shortly come by land. As for those that had made the false attaque, Fortune was not so favourable to them as to the o∣thers, and they were inforc'd to fight more than they intended; for Aronces hapning to be on that side, because it was believ'd it would be the most dange∣rous, came forth to meet them with armed Boats, and repell'd them so vigorously, that they were constrain'd to return towards Rome. He also took two of their Vessels: but understanding the real attaque would not be on that side, a sentiment of glory made him regret his absence from the place of greatest danger. Never∣theless soon after, a sentiment of Love made him the less sorry, inasmuch as he could not be accused by Cle∣lia for being instrumental by his valour to encrease a necessity, in which perhaps she might be concern'd, by hindring Provisions from entring into Rome. But being desirous to send her some tidings of himself, and not being able to go where the conflict was, since Rome stood between him and the place, he writ a short Letter in his Tablets, and gave liberty to a Comman∣der of a Boat whom he knew was alli'd to Clelius, on condition that he would deliver the same to Clelia. This person at his return to Rome made good his word to Aronces, and went to carry the Prince's Letter to that Illustrious Roman Lady, who found these words in it.

ARONCES to CLELIA.

SInce it has not been my fortune to be any wise concern'd in the danger of this daies action, know, 'tis alwaies with regret that I fight against Rome, and that for your sake I comfort my self more easily for loosing an occasion of honour; because I am more solicitous to give you testimonies of love, than to shew signs of courage to all the world. The Prisoners I send you back, will tell how highly I respect all that belong to Clelius. This is all can be said to you at present by a Prince, who has the un∣happiness to be in an Army that is Enemy to Rome, and who is faithful enough to adore you in the midst of your Enemies.

This Letter gave much joy to Clelia, but withal it augmented her persecution; for Clelius understand∣ing it, told her, she was infinitely culpable for re∣ceiving it; that there could no longer be an inno∣cent correspondence between her and Aronces, since himself prohibited it; and that Rome having daily greater obligation to Horatius, it behov'd her to look upon him as the man that was infallibly to marry her at the end of the War. Clelia answer'd to this speech of her father with her accustom'd constancy; & tho she said nothing inconsistent with the respect she ow'd to such a relation, yet withal she said nothing prejudicial to the fidelity she had promis'd to her Lover. In the mean time, to keep up the peoples hopes, who were troubled that the Enemies had again stopt up the pas∣sages of the River, sallies were frequently made upon them, and one day the herds of Cattle were driven forth out of the City, both to signifie to the Besiegers that they wanted nothing, as also to let the people to see, that it was not so straitly begirt. Moreover Publicola had a design to draw the Enemies to a conflict by this Stratagem, imagining they would soon have notice that the droves of Cattle were to go out of the City; for every day some treacherous slaves slunk out of the City into the Enemies Camp. Publicola therefore commanded Herminius to go with a small number of resolute Souldiers and ly in ambush along the great way of the Gabinians, in a little wood two miles di∣stant from the City; and appointed Spurius who was accompani'd with a troop of young men lightly arm∣ed, to stay at the Colline-gate till the Enemies were pass'd by it, to the end to intercept their way of re∣turn. On the other side, the second Consul went forth at another gate, and getting to the top of mount Clelium with foot only, he appear'd first to the Enemies with the Romane Ensigns, to the end to draw them out to fight. And accordingly Tarquin, whose quarter was on that side, first sending his forragers to attempt the driving away the Cattle, commanded other Troops to second them, who hastned to the place whither they were directed, with all the eagerness that useth to be in people that hope to make a great booty. Hermini∣us no sooner saw them advanc'd, but giving them a smart charge, he drave them towards the second Con∣sul. The Tarquinians thereupon ralli'd themselves, and encouraging one another to fight stoutly, made head on both sides: but at the same instant a great noise arising about the Colline, and the Nevian-gates, they understood they were inclos'd round; so that on a sudden losing their courages, they forsook their ranks, and were all taken or ••ut in pieces. Whereup∣on the people beholding the Prisoners brought in, and afterwards the Cattle, fell into an excessive joy, with∣out considering that the City was thereby no better provided for than before. But the Consuls, Clelius, Horatius, Herminius and all the other chief Romans well understood that this small advantage was far from being decisive of the main War, and that un∣less the Forts were taken that defended the broken bridge which the Enemies had repair'd, it was impos∣sible to have the River free on that side, and conse∣quently Rome could not long hold out. Therefore they resolv'd to make a great attempt to accomplish this; which resolution was kept with much secresie, to the end they might, if possible, surprise the Enemies. Ne∣vertheless they accounted it fit to defer the execution of this design for some daies, during which nothing pass'd very considerable either in the Camp of Porsen∣na or in Rome. In the mean time Aronces omitted nothing to which honor obliged him, and was de∣priv'd of all consolation, saving what the conversati∣on of the Princess of the Leontines, and the generous Melintha gave him. The Prince Titus was also very

much devoted to his interest, and Telanus acquitting himself of the promise he had made to Octavius, ren∣dred him all offices in his power. As for Tarquin, his so∣licitude of regaining the Throne wholly took him up; Sextus liv'd after his accustomed manner, to wit, as voluptuously in the Camp, as in time of peace: the fierce Tullia bestirr'd her self continually at Tarquinii to promote the design of Porsenna, who aim'd at the glory of compelling the Romans to receive a King from his hand: But altho War be a great affair which employ's all the world, even to those which go not to it, notwithstanding there wanted not some persons at Rome who diverted themselves agreeably; and War and Love have such a sympathy, that they sometimes produce one another, and often subsist together with∣out mutual prejudice. Thus there wanted not good company at the houses of Domitia, Valeria's Mother, Sulpicia, Berelisa, Cesonia, and divers other houses of quality: and all the Lovers, how courageous soever, fail'd not to find opportunities to make visits to their mistresses. They also who were not amorous, but yet had pleasant wits, and were of a debonair humor, frequently diverted themselves with the misfortunes of others. Amilcar found pleasure to himself in a hun∣dred things, which nevertheless had something of sad∣ness in themselves. Damon furnisht him with a suffici∣ently ample subject, for tho he hated Amilcar ever since he perciev'd that he derided him, in pretending to remember what he had been before he came into the world, yet he thought him of the Sect of Pythagoras, and that he wanted only firmness enough of mind to own an opinion publickly, which was generally so little receiv'd. Wherefore being very ill of the wound he had received at the attaque of the Tarquini∣ans bridge, and believing he should die (tho his atten∣dants thought otherwise) out of Zeal to the Sect he was of, he sent to desire Amilcar to come to see him; for one of the principal Precepts of Pythagoras was, Never to sleep with hatred in the Heart. Now Da∣mon having pass'd many daies and nights without be∣ing able to cease hating Amilcar, desir'd to see him before he di'd, that he might be reconcil'd to him and admonish him, since they were of the same Sect, not to make a secret of it, but to maintain that important verity; wishing passionately, that he might retain the remembrance of it when his Soul should be in∣clos'd in another body, as he believ'd it would in a short time. Amilcar at first much commiserated the prepossessed fancy of a man whom he saw really very sick. But there being no hope to cure him thereby, he answer'd him according to his desire. When he was gone out of his chamber, and had that object of compassion no longer before his eyes, and moreover understood by those that attended on Damon, that whatever he fanci'd, there was no danger of his dying, his jolly humor could not let pass so ample a subject of divertisement, but at night he compos'd a Dia∣logue between himself and Damon, which the next morning he sent to Plotina by an unknown person. When Plotina receiv'd the Pasquil, Valeria, Berelisa, Clidamira, Herminius, and Anacreon were in her cham∣ber. The hand being also unknown to her (for A∣milcar had caus'd his composition to be written by one of his Attendants) she imagined it might haply be something to declare her condition to her, and in∣form her who she was. Wherefore rising up to open it, and withdrawing towards the window, she was immediately surpriz'd upon reading these words; A Dialogue between Damon sick, and Amilcar in health.

This odd Title excited such laughter in her, that Anacreon told her she would be very unjust if she de∣priv'd the company of reading that which made her so pleasant. I assure you (answer'd she) 'tis not my intention, for I think the pleasure the company will receive in seeing that which is sent me, will augment my own. And accordingly Plotina, having resum'd her seat, and intreated her Auditors not to interrupt her, began to read that which follows, with that sweet and agreeable Air that was natural to her.

A Dialogue between Damon sick, and Amilcar in health.

Amilcar.

WHat has mov'd you to send for me? Am I not your Rival, and consequently your Enemy?

Damon.

Alas! When a man is at a point of death, and per∣haps ready to become a Crane the same moment, he has no longer power to hate any person: for, in brief, Amilcar, I may undergo that destiny if the Gods please, and if Pythagoras be not mistaken.

Amilcar.

Since I conceive Cranes are very healthful (for in my o∣pinion they are birds which do not much torment themselves with the affairs of this world) I should as soon chuse to be a Crane in health, as to be sick Damon. But however, for what reason have you sent for me hither?

Damon.

To conjure you that you would cease deriding the Doctrine of the greatest Philosopher that ever liv'd; since I am fully perswaded you are of his opinion, and 'tis only out of an evil bashfulness that you dare not own it seriously.

Amilcar.

But what are you concern'd whether I believe that which you do, or no?

Damon.

'Tis because I would be assur'd to leave a Pytha∣gorean Lover to Plotina, to the end he might per∣swade her of so important a truth as that of the Mc∣tempsychosis (or transmigration of Souls) is.

Amilcar.

How? Would you have me perswade her, that perhaps she has been a Stork, and may possibly become a Hinde; which are difficult matters to believe, when one is not accu∣stomed thereto? I, that cannot perswade her that I love her passionately, tho it be sufficiently probable for a man that has black eyes, an aery mind, and a sensible heart, to love the most charming person in the world?

Damon.

At least be so generous to perswade Plotina, that if the Gods hear my prayers, my Soul shall pass into the body of some pretty little Dog, which may divert her, tho she should receive it from your hand.

Amilcar.

Could I know you in that condition, I should beware of giving you to my Mistress; for you might be so dispos'd as to retain the hatred of a Rival under the form of a Dog, and to bite me as one of those Creatures when possess'd with madness, if I should offer to kiss the border of her robe.

Damon.

Alass! What then can I wish to be, that I may once again enjoy the presence of Plotina?

Amilcar,

Verily I think your case very hard herein; according to all likelihood, you can never see your self her Lover again,

tho the same moment ensuing your death should be the first of your second life: for twenty years hence you would be quite a new Lover, whom she would much contemn; and besides, she makes so little reckoning of her beauty at this day, that it's likely she would then much less esteem it. But if you will be∣leive me, desire to become a Mouse, and to be hid in her closet. I have sometimes made a Metamorphosis of a Mouse into a woman, doe you make one of a Lover into a Mouse.

Damon.

But you do not consider that she would not love me, but rather do all she could to cause me to be taken.

Amilcar.

You have reason, and I am mistaken; not but that, ac∣cording to the example of the Mouse I once told you of, which gnaw'd Mars's Love-letters, you might have pleasure e∣nough in gnawing all the sweet Letters that should be writ∣ten to her; and especially mine.

Damon.

'Tis true; but however, I cannot think fit to be∣come a Mouse.

Amilcar.

Indeed 'tis sufficiently difficult to chuse to be a Beast in the company of Plotina.

Damon.

Yet I should rather like to be some poor little Ani∣mal and made much of, than to be a Lover and ill treated.

Amilcar.

Every one has his fancie; but in conclusion, what doe you resolve upon?

Damon.

To die without knowing what I would be, that I might still serve for something to Plotina.

Amilcar.

Trouble your self no more about this matter; for I swear to you with all the sincerity of a Rival, that whatever you may possibly become, I will make you serve for divertisement to Plotina as often as I shall talk with her about your Py∣thagorean opinions. And now die with joy, since you can have no greater contentment, having troubled her during your life, than after your death, to serve for the pleasure of the fairest and most amiable person in the world.

It must needs be confest (said Plotina smiling) that Amilcar is not over-wise; for certainly 'tis he that made this Toy. Rather say (answer'd Valeria) that he is an agreeable person, and of an ingenious and diverting humor. For if Damon did not speak what is in the Dialogue, 'tis possible he might, according to the humor that I understand he is of. 'Tis true (reply'd Herminius) that a man who could believe Amilcar remembred he had been a Phoenix, might say all, that is here ascrib'd to him. I bese•••••• you (said Berelisa to Plotina) give me a Copy of this Dialogue. And I desire the same favour (added Clidamira) and if you please, will writ it out immediately. Amilcar's consent must be ask'd (answered Plotina seeing him enter) for no question he has more right than I in what you demand. I do not think that can be (said he) tho I know not what you speak of. We speak (answer'd she) of the pleasant Dialogue between Damon sick, and Amilcar in health. How? (cry'd he) as for the Amilcar you speak of, I assure you I do not know him; but thanks to your eyes, he that speaks to you is more sick than Damon. Since your malady does not appear in your aspect (answer'd Plotina) it is not easie to believe you; therefore you may please to suffer me to take you for the Amilcar in health who has made Damon speak a thousand follies, and who alone can grant me permission to give Berelisa a Copy of the Dialogue which he has made. Amilcar there∣upon said, it was true he had a discourse with Damon which deserv'd to be witten, but he endeavor'd to deny that he had sent any thing to Plotina. Yet it was in vain; for all the company so confidently main∣tain'd that it was he, that he could no longer defend himself. Well then, Madam (said he to Plotina) since 'tis your pleasure I should pass for the Author of the Dialogue in question, I consent to it, for I am the most complacent person in the world. Since 'tis so (said Berelisa) you shall give me a copy of what you have made. If Damon dies (answered Plotina) I shall consent to it; but if he does not, I conceive it will be best not to let this toy run abroad in the world, for fear at length he be angry in good earnest. On the contrary (reply'd Amilcar) if he dies, 'tis fit it die with him; but if he escape, as they who at∣tend him beleive, I care not if it be seen: for since Damon is of a Sect according to which it is not law∣full to sleep with hatred in the heart, he will doe me no great mischief. In truth (said Valeria) I con∣ceive, whether Damon die or no, 'tis best to give no copy of Amilcar's Dialogue, tho it be very agreeable. Your goodness extends too far, Madam (answer'd Berelisa) and 'tis enough to say only that 'tis not fit to publish this pleasant Toy, but too much that it ought not to be given to any whatsoever, since de∣lightful things are not made with intent not to be seen. No (reply'd Amilcar) but foolish things, as this in question is, ought not to be made common. Nevertheless (said Berelisa) when a copy of them is given to a discreet person who promises not to lend them, and swears to be faithful, to entrust them is not all one as to publish them. The world (said Plotina) is full of such discreet persons who promise all, and perform nothing which they promise. But for my part (answer'd Berelisa) I am not of that number, and none can be more exact than I am. For my par∣ticular (said Clidamira) when only Verses, Sonnets, or such like things are desir'd I sometimes suffer my self to be perswaded to shew them, tho I have pro∣mis'd the contrary, because for the most part I be∣leive they who make so great secrets of such kind of trifles, do it not but only to make them be thought the better. All such little infidelities (answered Berelisa maliciously) produce a strong disposition to greater. I am of Berelisa's opinion (reply'd Hermini∣us) and for that reason I judge it requisite to accu∣stom ones self to be exact even in the concernment of small things. In good earnest (said Amilcar) 'tis more trouble than 'tis imagin'd to keep a secrecie of trifles: for as for those greater serious secrets (added he) all people keep them that have but a little sense of Honor, or only a little prudence. But as for the secrets of Verses, Sonnets, Dialogues, or pleasant Novels, 'tis very difficult not to reveal them to some or other. Nevertheless, I confess 'tis dangerous e∣nough to give Copies of Letters or Verses, when 'tis not desir'd they should be common. For the more loth you are to have them seen, the more they are shown; and which is worst, such Copies pass through ignorant hands, who change and pervert the sense of the Copies which they transcribe. I remember I one day made a Sonnet which I was unwilling should goe abroad at that time; yet I gave it to a Lady who promis'd me not to shew it to any person living: the first Stanza was this which I shall repeat to you, if my memory doe not deceive me.

Reason and Love are at perpetual strife: Who so with that partaker is, Becomes an Enemy to this. But without Love there's no content in life.

Nevertheless this faithful friend who should not have shewn it to any one, gave it privately to a friend of hers, that Friend to a Lover, that Lover to another Mistress (for I am not the only man in the world that has more than one Mistress at a time) that Mistress to a Kins∣woman that sung well, and that Kinswoman to a Ma∣ster that taught her Musick, who immediately made an Air to it. But this miserable Stanza having pass'd through several hands, was so transform'd, that I could scarce own it: see how that simple fair one sung it.

Destiny and Love are at perpetual strife: Whoso with that partaker is, Becomes an Enemy to this. But without cause to laugh's a pleasant life.

Seriously (said Plotina smiling) I think I like this non-sense Stanza as well as the other, for the last Verse seems to me perfectly pleasant. Since it is so (said Amilcar) I consent that the Dialogue be given; for perhaps it will be as pertinently chang'd to divert you, as the Stanza of my Sonnets, which neverthe∣less astonish'd me when I heard that fair ignorant sing it, and account it the pleasantest thing in the world. 'Tis true (said Anacreon) this is a hard fortune. For my part, I remember I one day made an Ode, in the beginning of which I mention'd a Swallow; and as this composition had the good fortune to please, it was talk'd of sufficiently at the Court of Polycrates where I then was, and at length was so often repeated, and so many Copies made of it, that I met with one of it, in which in stead of the two first Verses which might be thus translated:

Thou in Spring-season each year dost return Too happy Swallow—

was put

Thou as a Locust each year dost return Too happy Turtle

So that this handsome Metamorphosis being made of a Swallow into a Locust, my poor Ode became a strange peice of non-sense. But people that understand a little sense (answer'd Berelisa) perceive well that it was not made so. No doubt they do (reply'd Her∣minius) but sometimes there are things whose mean∣ing cannot be conjectur'd, and all that can be known of them is, that they are not understood. Where∣fore the less a man can expose himself to these events, the better; and yet they would be avoyded, if all the world were exact. 'Tis so troublesome to be al∣ways exact (answer'd Clidamira) that nothing re∣quires more pains. All other things have their bounds, but exactness has none: it is diffus'd every where, and there is scarce any thing in which it may not be found. When exactness is excessive (reply'd Plotina) I confess 'tis something inconvenient; and if you observe, they that profess it have a kind of a constrain'd Air, their complements savour of cere∣mony, their familiarity is so nice that the least thing hurts it, and there is no quiet from them. He that is guided by true reason (answer'd Herminius) never addrest himself to any thing in the excess, but acquires a certain habit of being exact, which affords delight in stead of trouble. For I conceive they who are ex∣act, as vertuous persons ought to be, cannot but al∣wayes continue so. They are so, without perplex∣ity, constraint, or ceremony, and because they un∣derstand exactness to be a point of elegancie, that it is necessary to Society, and finally, that without it a man can promise himself nothing from any other per∣son. For when I tell a small secret to a friend who promises me not to reveal it; if I know he is not exact, I am always in fear. Moreover, for a man to comport himself rationally in friendship, it be∣hoves him not only to conceal what he is desir'd to keep secret, but sometimes also not to divulge things which he is not requested to be silent of; because generosity requires him to have a certain charitable discretion, even towards those that are not wise e∣nough to be absolutely discreet in their own concern∣ments. For indeed, it is never commendable for a man to lose an occasion of testifying to himself that he has more prudence, goodness and vertue than ano∣ther. He ought to make a secret delectation to himself by acting better than others do, and account it a glo∣ry to supply the reasons of others by his own, and not be like those who more frequently speak what they never ought so much as to think, than what is fitting to be spoken. I confess (said Amilcar) they who have no exactness are sometimes injurious to others; for I remember I saw a man at Carthage, that through want of it committed the greatest extragavancies in the World. I remember one day he invited me to dine with him, but being invited himself about an hour af∣ter to another place, he made no scruple to goe thi∣ther, without so much as sending to advertise me of it.

For my part (said Plotina) I shall never pardon a man who promis'd me a basket of Orange-flowers, and sent them not; and I shall remember another as long as I live, that sent twice to know whether I would be in my chamber that he might come to visit me. His messages were accompani'd with such earnestness, that imagining he desir'd to speak with me concern∣ing a business relating to a friend of mine, of which he understood something, I broke off an appointment I had made, and sent him word, I would attend him. And so I did to no purpose, and that with very much regret. For it being a fair day, in which all the world went abroad to walk, no body came to visit me, and I was all the afternoon turning my head as often as my chamber door was open'd, thinking always 'twas he that I waited for. And which was worst, I understood in the evening that this shuttle-brain'd friend had spent the day walking with the Ladies which he met as he was coming to me. Judge there∣fore (said Herminius) whether the little exactness which troubled you in so inconsiderable matters, would not disgust you in more important occasions. Besides, 'tis certain, that when a person makes a custome of not being punctual in small things, he easily fails to be so in great, and consequently many times hazards the displeasure of his best friends. And therefore the surest course is to be punctual. In truth (said Amilcar) I am of opinion, all things are dubious, that there is no side but may be defended; and If I were to establish a Sect, I would have it lawful to doubt of every thing, except matters of Religion. For there is nothing we can be confident of. Many times we are ignorant of what we fancie we know, and know what we take our selves to be ignorant of. There

are whole Nations which have Opinions, that pass for errors amongst others; and as all men have a constitution and temper particular to themselves, so every Kingdom, every Country, every City has its peculiar manners, customs, inclinations, and opinions too; so true it is, that reason varies according to the Climates and Nations: For the most part we believe what our Fathers believ'd before us, without search∣ing into the reason of our belief; onely there are a few sublime Wits who pry into things in their Ori∣ginal, who seek to make a perfect discovery of their Opinions, and after all their pains find it almost im∣possible to be done. For indeed our Reason from the very first use of it is prepossest with the sentiments of others, and can't without violence clear it self from all that entangles it. In which respect I am perswaded, men are almost alwaies deceiv'd, even in things wherein they think themselves erre least; and the surest course would be, as I said before, to doubt al∣most of every thing. And to prove what I say; is it not true, that till the daies of Pythagoras, the most learned men believ'd the Evening-Star and the Morn∣ing-Star to be two distinct Stars? And neverthe∣less, the knowing Philosopher has discover'd to us, that the same Star which we behold so twinkling at the beginning of night, is the same which is so fair at break of day. All men before, judg'd of it in that manner; and two names were given it, which it bears still: and yet we see manifestly that all men were mistaken. That which you say is true (answer'd A∣nacreon) but the same man that could discover a truth that had been unknown before, teaches a ridiculous falshood in his Metempsychosis. 'Tis in that regard (reply'd Amilcar) that I have reason to affirm, 'tis best to doubt almost of every thing; since the great∣est men are lyable to be deceiv'd in something. For my part (said Herminius) I cannot conceive that that excellent man positively believ'd that which his Disciples teach; for the Moral Precepts are so ex∣cellent, that 'tis hard to believe his Doctrine could have been so foolish. As for my particular (said Be∣relisa) I confess I cannot yet very well believe that he thought he remember'd he had been a Cock, and Eu∣phorbus at the War of Troy, could be of any great judg∣ment. Nevertheless 'tis certain (answer'd Hermi∣nius) that Pythagoras was one of the wisest men of the World. But what then (said Plotina) did he teach so Excellent? A thousand things, Madam, (answer'd Herminius) and to tell you some of them, he commanded his Disciples to honour the Gods, and never to desire any particular thing of them; main∣taining, that no man knows exactly what is fit for him, and that 'tis more respectful to submit totally to the order of Heaven, than to endeavour to al∣ter the Decrees of Destiny according to ones humor. What you say, has no doubt something very excel∣lent in it (reply'd Valeria) for I conceive indeed that all men know not what is proper for them, and that the cause of disorder, division, and Wars in the World, is, for that in general all men desire good, and know not what it is. But to return to the ex∣cellent man you speak of, I remember I once heard the Illustrious Brutus (who was an intimate friend of the wise Damo, daughter of Pythagoras) say, that this great man compos'd a thousand excellent Verses concerning heroical Friendship. 'Tis very probable (answer'd Herminius) and to the same purpose he e∣stablisht a Community amongst his Disciples; for he confidently maintain'd, that there ought not to be any distinct interest amongst true friends, and that where there was, there was no friendship but society: and it may be averr'd, that never any before him so well un∣derstood all the duties of true Friendship. But that which makes me love him the more, is, that he was a profest enemy to Lying, which I hate more than can be imagin'd. No doubt Lying is an evil thing (reply'd Amilcar) but to say truth, it is sufficiently hard to renounce it absolutely; and upon due observation it would be found, that even they who hate it most, sometimes make use of it, notwithstanding their detesting it. At least I know that I do upon some occasions, and shall do still many times in my life. Not that I love to lye, but it has certain little con∣veniences in it very necessary. For example, is it possible to make a Story delightfully without lying, or adding some circumstance to render it more plea∣sant? Can one commend a woman, without speak∣ing a little more good of her than she deserves? Can one speak ill of his enemy without aggravating his fault? Can one bemone himself in Love, without making his misery a little greater than it is? And to prosecute sincerity to the utmost, could I have com∣pos'd the Dialogue of sick Damon, if I would have confin'd my self to the truth? All the company laught at this which Amilcar said; and as Plotina was going to answer him, Aemilius entred, and ask'd if they had heard the great news which he lately learnt. I assure you (answer'd Plotina) that we have heard none all this day. I inform you then (reply'd he) that I am just now assur'd, there is a great division between Tarquin and Porsenna, and that it may be an occasion of raising the Siege and delivering Rome. As things desir'd are easily be∣liev'd, this news was receiv'd with joy; and tho Herminius made scruple at first of believing that Tarquin would fall out with a Prince without whose protection his case was desperate, yet he yielded at length, and discours'd upon this surprising intelligence as the rest did. A little while after, Flavia enter'd, and having taken a seat, ask'd, whe∣ther they had heard tell of the apparition of the God of Tyber, who was reported to have threatned Porsenna's Camp; and then making the description of that God, repeating the very words that were attributed to him, and indeed speaking as a person well perswaded of what she affirm'd was true. For my part (said Amilcar smiling) I have walk'd upon the banks of the fairest Rivers in the World, and al∣so upon those of the River Alphaeus, so famous for his love of the fair Arethusa; but none of the Deities that preside over them would never yet do me the honour to appear to me: and therefore Ma∣dam, (added he, looking upon Flavia) you must permit me to expect till the news you speak of be confirm'd, before I believe it. Flavia was going to answer, but Merigenes being enter'd hinder'd her, for beholding Amilcar in the company, he seem'd so surpris'd at it, that assoon as the first civilities were past, he could not but testifie his astonishment. I thought (said he to Amilcar) you had been gone dis∣guis'd to the Enemies Camp, to foment the division which they say is between Porsenna and Tarquin; for I just now came from speaking with a man who con∣fidently assur'd me he saw you depart thither. Well then (said Aemilius) you understand by Merigenes, that I am not the only person that have heard report of the division amongst the enemies. But if it be no more true (answer'd Herminius) that they are

divided than it is that Amilcar is gone disguis'd to Porsenna's Camp, there is not much ground to rejoice at this great news. But, I beseech you (said Ploti∣na) from whom did you learn it? From a man (answer'd Aemilius) that I seldome see but in the Publick places, where they talk of general affairs. He seems to be ingenious, speaks much and well, is not much to seek for what he would say, and af∣firms things so positively, that none dare doubt of what he delivers. 'Tis certainly the same (said Me∣rigenes) that told me you were gone disguis'd to the Camp of the Enemies. May it not be the same man too (added Plotina, smiling) that acquainted Flavia with that wonderful Apparition she tells us of? To speak truth (answer'd Flavia) I think all our newes comes from the same place; for Mutius who inform'd me of what I have related to you, assur'd me, he heard it reported by an ingenious person in the Grand Court of Hostilius. 'Tis there I was told of the di∣vision of the Enemies (reply'd Aemilius). And 'tis there also that I was assur'd (added Merigenes) Amil∣car was gone out of Rome disguis'd, but with all the circumstances so precise, that any other besides my self would have been deceiv'd as well as I have been. Is he a Roman (demanded Berelisa smiling) that told you all this News? No, Madam, (answer'd Aemili∣us) and I find his pronunciation manifests him to be a stranger. Certainly then (said Clidamira to Bereli∣sa) 'tis a man whom we know, who accompani'd us in our passage from Cicily to Ostia. I doubt no more of it than you do (answer'd Anacreon) and accordingly describing that person to Merigenes and Aemilius, they understood 'twas he of whom he spoke. But what is this universal Impostor? (said Plotina). He is a person of extraction good enough (answer'd Bere∣lisa) born at Lylihaeum; he spent his youth in Africa, and has got such a faculty of lying, that 'tis impossi∣ble to hinder him from it. So that I think I may safe∣ly affirm, he never spoke any truth in his life, but he thought he ly'd. Nevertheless, as you were told, he is ingenious, speaks freely, and delights those suffici∣ently who know him not for a Lyar; for he alwaies tells new things, his wit is never exhausted, and al∣waies forgeing matter of discourse; he talks all his life, and withal hath the art to contradict himself less than all other great Lyars. But, for that I am a lover of truth, and very much abhor lying, I cannot en∣dure him, and he comes no more to see me. For an hour or two (reply'd Anacreon) one may be divert∣ed by him; but continuing longer, his conversation is insupportable; for what heed soever one takes, and what resolution soever one makes not to believe him, yet one is alwaies circumvented by him; and he speaks things with so free and ingenious an air, that he is able to deceive as long as he lives. 'Tis re∣markable (said Clidamira) that he has been so horri∣bly encounter'd for his lying, at Lilybaeum, that he dares live there no longer; and for that he is per∣swaded 'tis impossible to speak truth alwaies, he is come hither with intention to go to Praeneste, to in∣quire, whether it be possible there should be a veraci∣ous man in the World. If he please (answer'd Amil∣car) I will shorten his journey, for I will assure him sincerely, that no man alwaies speaks truth, and more∣over that there are as many great Lyars as speakers of truth. As for me (said Herminius) who make a particular profession to love truth and detest lying, I wish people would absolutely conclude that it behoves never to lye. How? Never? (reply'd Plotina) I do not think it possible. For there are little Lyes of ci∣vility, which we cannot but sometimes make use of, and decency does not oblige us to decline them. There are also Lyes of generosity (added Amilcar) which sometimes are very convenient to be us'd. As for the pleasant Lyes (said Anacreon) I beg favour in behalf of them, For my part (added Clidamira) I approve using a Lye in way of excuse. For that I fear death much (answered Flavia) when I am very sick, I am contented that people should Lye, and tell me al∣waies I shall recover, tho they do not believe so. As for me (said Valeria) I will never use a Lye, unless when it may serve to save the life of some person. For my part (said Merigenes) I should extremely scru∣ple to tell the least Lye in the world; but I confess, perhaps I might Lye, at the command of a Mistress. In good earnest (said Berelisa) there are more Lyars, than I imagin'd. Some there are to (answer'd Aemi∣lius) who are Lyars, tho they do not think themselves to be such. But since we are in the humor of speak∣ing truth (reply'd Plotina) I beseech you let us esta∣blish Laws which may instruct us how far 'tis lawful to Lye. I confess (said Herminius) I am of opinion it behoves to have a general purpose, of Lying at no time, and not to produce in our selves a habit of those small Lies, which are not scrupl'd by any, and to which people insensibly become accustom'd. For since no crime is so easie to be committed, nor of more fre∣quent conveniency than a Ly, we ought to restrain our selves from it to our power, and look upon Lying as a cowardly, low, weak, and infamous thing, arguing a less fear of the Gods than of men. But on the o∣ther side, we ought to look upon Truth as the Soul of Honesty, if I may so speak. And forasmuch as scarce any thing besides Speech distinguishes Men from Brutes, as being the image of their Reason, whoso falsifies it, renders himself unworthy to be a man. Beasts have no deceitful cries, except those terrible A∣nimals that are bred upon the banks of Nilus; there is none but man, whose wickedness perverts the use of the Voice. Moreover, truth is the Universal bond, which maintains order in the World; the Publick-Faith, the Law of Nations, and Justice are founded upon it. It bears the supreme sway in Love and Friendship; without it, the World would be nothing but confusion, all men would be cheats, cowards, and impostors; and there would be neither honour nor pleasure in the World, if truth were banisht out of it. There is no greater incon∣venience then a servant that is a Lyar, that assures you he has done what you commanded him, when he has not so much as thought of it. For my part, I confess to the shame of my Reason, I partly owe the hatred I bear against Lying, to a Lying slave that I had, who caus'd me to lose my patience a hundred times, and spoyl'd the order of my affairs by his con∣tinual falshoods. For he was so excessive at it, that sometimes he affected as much to accuse himself by ly∣ing, as to justifie himself by speaking truth. But to return where I was; is there any thing more insuffe∣rable than an Artisan, who promises you what you have commanded him, and deceives you continually? Is there any thing more odious than the practice of those Great persons, who with favourable words cause a thousand favours to be hop'd from them, which they have resolv'd not to grant? Is there any thing more cruel, than to discover that a friend whom you love, did not tell you truth, when he told you, he lov'd you above all the rest of the World?

And lastly, is there any thing more insupportable, than to have a Mistress that swears to love none but you, and nevertheless loves several other persons, or (to speak more properly) loves none? for a divided love is no love. A Lye serves for dissimulation, fraud, perfidiousness, cowardise, and almost all crimes, and 'tis only weakness or imprudence to make use of it. For a man continually incurs the commission of a crime that can never be committed but in publick, and by endangering himself to be convinc'd of it. To lye for nothing, is folly; to Lye for interest, is a great crime, since certainly there is nothing so contra∣ry to the Gods as Lying; the Gods, I say, who are so true in the Oracles which they render. And moreo∣ver, do not we see that the search of Truth is the U∣niversal design of all men, and especially of the wise? That which I find yet more pernitious in Lying (said Merigenes) is, that it is a poyson which speedily com∣municates it self, and whose effect is scarce possible to be afterwards stopt. For when any one relates a Lye in company, all that hear it Lye after him with confidence, and cause all others to Lye, to whom they impart such false relation; so that I conceive Herminius has reason in condemning Lying as much as he does. As for all great Lyes (answer'd Amil∣car) I think no man can justifie the practice of them at any time. I condemn the middle sort too (added Plo∣tina) but as for those small ones which are in use all over the world, I think 'tis no easie matter to be able to disclaim them. For my part (said Herminius. I condemn all sorts; yet perhaps I can pardon some, but if I might prevail, none at all should be permitted. But then (said Plotina) 'tis requisite I should be fully instructed in this point, and propound Questions to the Company, which may teach me and correct me for the future. In the first place (said Herminius) it behoveth never to make either a great or a little Lye which may prejudice any person whatsoever; for since Justice and Generosity require not men to speak endammaging truths, they are far from permitting injurious Lyes. What you say, seems so equitable and generous (answered Plotina) that I will not contra∣dict it: but however will you license those officious Lies which turn to the benefit of our Friends, or serve to conceal their faults? I love my friends very well (reply'd Herminius) and I am very joyful at any occasion to serve them; but if I should be unable to do them a courtesie except by Lying, I should be ex∣tremely perplex'd. Then you would suffer me to die for want of a Lie? (said Valeria smiling) I find I could not (answer'd Herminius) but I confess, I should have very much regret to save your life by a way so little honourable; for in brief, every Lye is a crime, and all I can do in favour of officious Lies, is to account them excusable in certain occasions. But when a Lye injuries none (said Amilcar) and benefits some person, is it not innocent? A Lye (answer'd Herminius) ne∣ver fails to hurt him that uses it, tho it should injure no other person, and be only his own Lye; since it renders him less vertuous: and all that can be said, is, that to hinder a Friend from falling into a great mis∣fortune, kindness may prevail above truth. But as for what concerns me, I confess, I should scruple to secure my self from a very considerable mischief by a Lye. Sincerely (reply'd Plotina) my generosity does not go so high as yours; for it I ly'd in behalf of another, I should also Lye in favour of my self. I am of your mind (said Amilcar) Nevertheless, that which Herminius says is very noble and generous (an∣swer'd Merigenes) for I think it shameful to Lye for ones self in any occasion; and it were better to under∣go the mischief that threatens us, than avoid it by such means: so that I conclude, a man may Lye to save his Friend's life or liberty, but never for his own interests. I maintain too (said Herminius) that Lying is always a crime, and that even when a man Lies to save his friend's Life, he ought to do it with reluctancy and sorrow, because all Lying is unworthy of a man of ho∣nour. Moreover it ought not to be conceiv'd, that there is but one sort of Lyers, since there are a hundred dif∣ferent kinds. 'Tis oftentimes to make a Lye, not to speak a truth that is requisite to be spoken; and dissi∣mulation is so dangerous a concomitant of Lying, that they may be confounded one with another. I confess (said Plotina) I could sometimes have justifi'd certain persons, if I would have declar'd what I knew: but I care not to oppose what people speak affirmatively, especially when it concerns only indif∣ferent persons, and who are accus'd of no great crimes. But why will you by your silence (said Va∣leria) charge your self with a Lye which you do not speak? For if you can refute it, you are culpable of it; and I conceive well that Herminius has reason, when he saies, there are several kinds of Lyes; for there are Lies in deeds as well as in words, Lying looks, deceiv∣ing signs, dissembling smiles, and a Lying silence. Va∣leria has reason (said Anacreon) and I think too there are Lying civilities, and Lying courtesies; for some∣times people do services to some persons whom they hate, because they have need of them in some occa∣sion, and to others out of fear and weakness; some∣times also they make shew of being glad to see persons that are extreamly distasteful to them. I assure you (answer'd Berelisa) Clidamira is the person that of all the world has most of this Lying civility you speak of: for 'tis not three daies ago, since a young slave came to tell her there was a man desir'd to see her; Clida∣mira had no sooner heard his name, but she grew red with anger, because the slave had not told him she was not at home; then she sought all waies possible to cause him not to make his visit long, and gave or∣der that a quarter of an hour after his coming, word should be brought her that she was expected else∣where. After which, changing her countenance, a∣ction, and speech, it may be said she ly'd all the waies that can be in receiving this man. For she saluted him with an obliging smile, she caus'd him to sit down with all imaginable civility, and began to entertain him with so pleasing an air, that I am confident the poor man thought he should pass the whole afternoon with her, and that he did her the greatest pleasure in the world in visiting her. Nevertheless it is certain his presence was extreamly disgustful to her. I con∣fess it (said Clidamira) but how can we tell unwel∣come persons that they are so? It would be discour∣teous to tell them so (reply'd Berelisa) but yet 'tis not necessary to make such a false countenance to them; 'tis enough to shew them only a kind of cold civility, that is inoffensive on the one side, and on the other is not treacherous, and does not attract people that are not lik'd. But does not all the world use to do so? (said Clidamira). For my part (answer'd Vale∣ria) I could not. I confess ingenuously (said Plotina) sometimes I can Lye in this manner, but not so per∣fectly as Clidamira; for they that understand my glances and smiles, perceive well when they are feign∣ed or sincere. In earnest (said Amilcar) you could not deceive me with them. But I would know fur∣ther

(said Plotina) whether Herminius, who loves truth so much, does not make complements, as others do. Nevertheless, to speak sincerely, all complements are Lies. I grant it (answer'd Her∣minius) but for that they are known to be such, and no person laies any solid foundation upon comple∣ments, they are Lyes without malignity. People know well enough that no great credit will be given to them, they are return'd as they are receiv'd; and I conform to custome without scruple, yet with such moderation, that I make as few as I can. But as for pleasant Lies (reply'd Anacreon) you do as little con∣demn them; and should I go about to make a de∣lightful relation, you would allow me to add some∣thing to the History; for truth has for the most part somewhat too serious in it, which does not delight so much as fiction. As for this sort (said Herminius) I think they may be permitted; for since stories are no more believ'd than complements, I leave your fancy liberty to invent what pleases it; and morco∣ver, it belongs properly to you to enjoy the privi∣ledge of lying innocently. Indeed to speak strictly, there are no lyes innocent but those that are related for lyes, as all the ingenious Fables of the Poets; yet they ought to have the appearance and shew of truth; so true it is, that a lye is foul and unhandsome of it self. Yet there is a sort of lying (reply'd Amilcar) which is an inseparable companion of vanity; and I should be sorry if there were none of it in the world: for the lyers that use it, sometimes give me sufficient divertisement. What lyers do you speak of? (said Poltina). Of those (answer'd Amilcar) who commend themselves, every one according to their fancy: for some people are guilty of the weakness to desire the world would believe them to have a greater reputati∣on than they have, and tell a thousand lies to make it believ'd. There are Hectors who make long rela∣tions of dangerous enterprises, in which they never were; these are false Gallants, who pretend to good fortune, and spend the nights in devising amorous adventures, and the whole days in relating of them, as if they had hapned to themselves. I know some such, as well as you (repli'd Plotina) and I know o∣thers as very fools too: for I know a man that had the impudence to tell me he was descended in a di∣rect line from Danae, and yet 'tis known he is of a very mean birth. However, he has made a long Pedegree, with which he tires such as give him the hearing. As for false pretenders to Heraldry (said Anacreon) they di∣staste me as well as those that would seem wealthy, and think to keep themselves from being poor by lying. I assure you (answer'd Aemilius) I know some people very rich, that lye as ridiculously as these, who have a fancy to make it believ'd, that all that belongs to them is dearer than it is really, and devise a hundred extravagant lyes to publish their false magnificence. There are some likewise (said Merigenes) who have the boldness to say they have given things which it would not be often in their power to bestow. I know other lyers also (added Anacreon) that are sufficiently extravagant, namely, such as when they have been puzled by some person in discourse, without knowing what to say, make the handsomest answers in the world at home, and which is more notorious, relate the same afterwards as if they made them upon the place. Moreover there are some (added Clidamira) so vain as to report that persons of quality write to them, and go to see them, tho they never so much as thought of them. The sum of all is (said Hermini∣us) that there are many fools and lyars in the world, and that I have reason to hate Lying••e f••ctly. They that lye to prejudice others (added Anacreon) are worse than they that lye to commend themselves; but I look upon it as so ridiculous to tell lies out of vanity, that I find my inclination would sooner lead me to utter some lye a little malitious, than to com∣mend my self, like those above mention'd. Yet some of those that lye in their own commendation (answer'd Amilcar) cause me to pity them, because they do it according to their judgments, and having a better conceit of themselves than there is reason for, lye innocently; but the worst for them is, that tho 'tis commonly said, The way to deceive o∣thers, is to decieve ones self, yet they do not per∣swade any to be of their opinion. But I beseech you (said Plotina) tell me further what you think of those that write caressing and lying Letters both together, I think the same of them (answer'd Her∣minius) as of those who speak lying civilities. In earnest (repli'd she after a little musing) if truth were well establish'd in the world, people would speak almost nothing of what they use to speak. This intimates (said Amilcar) that we ought not to trust too much in your words. For the future (an∣swer'd she) I promise you to be the truest person in the world; for to speak freely, all that Herminius has said in behalf of truth, and against lying, hath so affected me, that I will never lye more at all. And to shew you that I have profited well by what he has said, I conclude also with him, that every Lye is a crime, that if it were possible, lying ought in no case to be practis'd, that 'twere good never to em∣ploy a Lye to do a benefit, that it is less criminal to lye for saving the life of ones Friend, than ones own; that lying good-turns argue weakness, that dissimulation is a baseness, that lying civilities are blameable, that to lye for ones own commendation is ridiculous, and that complements are lyes so known, that they do no mischief to any; that there is an implicite lying in silence, which ought to be avoided; that the custome and habit of the least lies is a great fault, and that the Poets are the onely Lyars that deserve to be commended. You have undoubtedly benefited by the discourse (said Vale∣ria) but methinks it might be further askt, whether a Lye be not more criminal in writings than in words? Do not doubt it, Madam, (said Herminius) and I won∣der all the company has left this to be observ'd by Va∣leria. In brief (added Anacreon) I conceive that of all the manners in which lying can appear, there is none more criminal and unworthy than that of certain mean wits, all whose faculties and genius consisting in their own malignant humour, they employ them∣selves onely to heap falsities together, to the end to compose Satyrs of them. 'Tis possible no doubt, to make innocent Satyrs (said Herminius) but they ought to be against vices in general; and such as these do not make use of lying, but al∣together of truth, But as for such as are made a∣gainst particular persons, lying and calumny are in∣separable from them, they are alwaies the issues of hatred or envy; and the composers being never able to keep themselves from Lying, are the most criminal of all others that practise it, For they endeavour to fix a Lye (if I may so speak) to render it immortal if they could, to impose upon posterity, and to accuse peo∣ple even when they shall be no longer in a conditi∣on to defend themselves. But whereas the Gods

are just, those whose hearts are so ill temper'd as to affect making Satyrs, are alwayes hated and despis'd. even by them that laugh most at their calumniating lyes. They are like Tygers and Panthers amongst men; people desire to see them out of curiositie, but not to have them at their own houses. They are fear'd even when they sport themselves, and no trust can ever be put in them. And to speak freely, there is reason not to desire friends which are declared E∣nemies of Justice Humanity, Vertue, and Truth. I see well (said Valeria) that all the companie approves what Herminius has said; but I know not whether a Lye may be excusable in War and in Love, and whether equivocal and ambiguous answers which seem to be in the middle between truth and falshood, may be permitted. As for equivocal answers (said Herminius) as they are the products of subtility and deceit, I have great inclination to condemn them ab∣solutely, saving in certain occasions wherein out of goodness we desire to avoyd speaking truths that are disadvantageous to any. Moreover, I should not love to find my self constrain'd to use them, and to speak sincerely; it behoves alwayes to answer accord∣ing to the intention or meaning of the person spoken to, and not to endeavour to deceive him. As for lyes which are made in war (said Anacreon) I do not ac∣count them criminal, because assoon as War is pro∣claim'd, each party distrusts the other. I confess it (said Herminius) but yet I am assur'd no Heroe would take upon him the office of a Spy, or get a Victory to his party, only by a lying speech, without being other∣wise instrumental to it. Wherefore without going about to examine whether in general a Lye be lawful in War, I confidently affirm, that I would never take a Commission to lye, and I should alwayes chuse rather to fight the Enemies, than to deceive them. But as for Lovers (said Amilcar) if you absolutely de∣prive them of the priviledge of lying, you take away all their strength. For true Lovers (answer'd Her∣minius) I think that at utmost I should but permit them to lye in Verse, provided they always speak truth in prose. But the case is not the same in re∣ference to light impertinent Lovers, for I license them to speak all they please; for since they are in no great danger of being believ'd unless by Gossips that deserve to be gull'd, 'tis not needful to deny them their feigned sighs, and deceitful tears, flattering lyes, dissembled despairs, and a thousand other coun∣terfeit toyes. Should you have been all your life as very a flatterer as I (reply'd Amilcar) you would not better understand the practices of extragavant Lovers. If he has not been such (said Valeria smil∣ing) he may be; and I know not if he follow'd his inclination, whether he would not be so a little. I detest lying so much (answer'd Herminius) that methinks I ought not to be suspected to be lyable to become a fond Lover, especially by the amiable Val∣eria, who is the fittest person in the world to cure those that honour her particularly, of such malady. Herminius had scarce ended these words, but one came to advertise him, that Publicola desir'd his presence; wherefore he departing at the same instant, the dis∣course was alter'd for a small time, and soon after the Company separated. Yet Plotina made an observa∣tion which caus'd her to judge it harder to speak truth alwayes, than it seem'd; for all the civilities made by these several persons, were for the greatest part more flattering than sincere. Herminius was no sooner arriv'd at Publicola's house, but he understood it was requisite to hasten that design of attaquing the two Forts of the Enemies, because it was known they were making new entrenchments, which would render the taking of them impossible, if it were lon∣ger deferr'd. An hour after, a Council of War hav∣ing been secretly held, at which the second Consul Clelius, Horatius, Artemidorus, Themistus, Mutius, Oc∣tavius, Herminius, Aemilius, and some others were pre∣sent. It was resolv'd not to attempt the taking both the Forts at the same time, because the Roman Troops would be too weak, if they were divided; and there∣fore that only a false assault should be made upon the Fort that was hardest to win, and in the mean time all the Troops should march directly to the other Fort. To this end Gabions, sheds of boards, faggots, platforms, rams, and other engines necessary in like occasions were provided; and for that the Romans would not be commanded but by a Roman, Horatius had the general command, and under him Artemi∣dorus, Themistus, Octavius, Herminius, Aemilius, Mutius, and Spurius, had the chief Offices. Merigenes, Amil∣car, Meleagenes, Acrisius, Damon, Sicinius, and all the o∣ther gallants mingled themselves amongst the Bands, or ranked themselves neer Horatius. As for the Con∣suls, they stay'd in Rome for the security of the City, and to send relief to Horatius in case he needed it, or to succour and receive him in case he were repell'd. But as a secret is the most difficult thing in the world to keep, when an enterprise of this nature is in agitation, Porsenna and Tarquin understanding the secret preparations that were making at Rome, did not doubt but they were intended for the storming of one of the two Forts; wherefore their Army be∣ing very numerous, they provided likewise to sustain both assaults. Aronces commanded on one side, and Titus on the other; the Prince of Messene, tho a little inconvenienc'd with the slight wound he re∣ceiv'd at the attaque of the Bridge, did not fail to accompany Aronces. The brave Lucilius, brother of the generous Melintha, was also on that side, and so were Mamilius Tarquin's son in-law, Telanus, Theanor, and several others; Sextus not daring to take any command, out of policy, for fear of incensing the Romans too much, and making them more valiant by their hatred of him, continued neer Tarquin, who commanded the Body of the Reserve, that he might succour those that should need it. But at length the day appointed for this grand action being come, the one side prepar'd to make a stout assault, and the o∣ther to sustain the force of the Assailants. Then it was that Clelia had an extreme great agitation of mind, for she doubted not but that this would be a very dangerous encounter, and that Aronces would expose himself to the greatest hazards of the day. And indeed this valiant Prince to comfort himself for not having sought in the most dangerous place when the Bridge was attaqu'd, resolv'd to signalize his courage this day, especially having understood that Horatius had the command of the Roman Troops for the execution of this enterprise. Not but that when he consider'd that he serv'd Tarquin who was a Tyrant, who had used Clelia unworthily, and was still amorous of her, and moreover when he reflected that he fought for Sextus who was the cause of Lu∣cretia's death, and afterwards of that of the Illustrious Brutus; he resented an excessive grief, and judg'd it an intolerable cruelty to hinder provision from enter∣ing into a City were his Misteress was inclos'd. It was also very hard for him to see himself with his sword

in his hand against his dearest friends: but how∣ever, honour and nature tying him to the side of the King his father, and his hatred of Horatius animat∣ing him to a new desire of glory, he dispos'd himself to fight with a certain kind of boldness, which rais∣ing fierceness in his eyes, made him seem to have a more high aspect when he was at the head of the Troops. The opinion of Tarquin was only to sustain the charge of the Romans in the Fort, but that of A∣ronces was to march out and meet them, and present them with battle. And this advice being follow'd, he went to take a stand between Rome and the Fort that was to be attaqu'd, and so marshall'd the Troops he had with him, that one would have said all Porsen∣na's Army was in the place. When the Romane For∣ces which march'd in order, appear'd, the two Ar∣mies were soon in a posture to joyn battle. Horatius beholding Aronces in the head of his Forces, was ex∣treme joyful that he had an opportunity to draw his sword against him without ingratitude; and Aronces knowing him, felt all the motions in his breast, that hatred, love, and glory are able to inspire. the Ro∣mans being the Assailants, Horatius march'd up first to the Enemies, after having encourag'd them which were to follow him, both by his voice and action. Almost at the same time, Aronces, follow'd by all his party, advanc'd, and so bore up against the shock of the Enemies, that in stead of being broken by them, he broke their Forces. This is the day (cry'd Aronces speaking to Horatius) that must end all our differen∣ces. At these words the valiant Prince redoubling his ordinary valour, charg'd his Rival with such vio∣lence, that he gave him no time to deliberate what to doe, because he was constrain'd to defend himself. Yet he did not forget himself in this conflict, but as he warded off Aronces first blows, since my deliverer (said he) will take away my life, which he has sav'd more than once, I must shew him at least, that I know well how to defend it. Hereupon ensued a furious combate between these two valorous Rivals, and Horatius found himself in more danger by having to bear up against the single valour of Aronces, than he had been when he alone sustain'd the whole power of the Enemies in defending the Sublician-Bridge. At length, Aronces having slightly wound∣ed him in two places, wrested his sword away, took him prisoner, and deliver'd him to be guarded by some of his Souldiers, whilst himself pursu'd his ad∣vantage. But when the Romans perceiv'd the taking of Horatius, they made so great a charge to disingage him, that they recover'd him indeed, whil'st Aronces was fighting against many together, who having ral∣lied, encompass'd him about. At another place the Prince of Messene who commanded the Cavalry, per∣ceiving Themistus his Rival and fiercest Enemy in the front of him, preparing himself to receive him, he rush'd forward with his Horse at the same time that Themistus gave speed to his; so that meeting with equal impetuosity, the Prince was dangerously wounded in the breast, and Themistus's right arm was run through. The former reeling with the blow he had receiv'd, was reliev'd by his Souldiers, who car∣ried him off to a place of security: and Themistus be∣ing unable to bear his sword with his wounded arm, put it into his left hand, and drawing back to the se∣cond rank, did not cease to give Orders till the end of the fight. In the mean time Aronces seeing the Vic∣tory was too long disputed with him, caus'd Titus to advance, who fighting with several Interests that augmented his courage, seconded Aronces so well, that in spight of the Romans valour, they began to give ground on that side. Artemidorus seeing this dis∣order, and observing Titus in the head of the Romans, which were of Tarquin's party, made directly at him with his sword; but that of Titus breaking as he ward∣ed off the blow, he retir'd into the midst of his fol∣lowers. But Artemidorus being unhappily carried for∣ward by his valour in repelling the Enemies, re∣ceiv'd an Arrow into his flank, which was shot by a common Soldier, hid behind a bush; whereupon falling down, the Enemies had taken him prisoner, if Mutius follow'd by the couragious Merigenes had not arriv'd there at the instant to rescue him. Then it was that the valiant Aronces stood in need of all his courage and prudence; for he saw that notwithstand∣ing all his endeavors, the Romans on a sudden taking heart again, had put their Troops in order; that Oc∣tavius, Mutius, and Herminius were advancing, and that his own Soldiers were ready to turn their backs to the Enemies. The Prince therefore taking up a dar∣ing and generous resolution, commanded his guards which follow'd him to kill all such of his party as of∣fer'd to stir a foot, or refus'd to follow him. Where∣upon joyning a great example of valour to this com∣mand, the fight was renew'd with more heat than be∣fore. Horatius on his part having resum'd his place, not∣withstanding his wounds, perform'd his utmost either to overcome or die. So that in an instant all the forces being mix'd together, the persons of Quality all came to handy-blows, and signaliz'd themselves. Mutius perform'd admirable things, Octavius did no less. Luc∣ilius on Aronces's party signaliz'd himself highly; Aemi∣lius fought like a brave and unhappy Lover, that hop'd for nothing, and fear'd not death; and in a word, all acquitted themselves couragiously on both sides. But Aronces having too few foot, and for that to goe towards a Batalion which flanked him there was a little Curtain to be pass'd over, where his Cavalry would be unprofitable, and besides, that his Infantry was extremely tir'd, he turn'd towards a party of his Horse-men, and propounded to them to forsake their Horses and follow him, they obey'd him, and furious∣ly charg'd those they were to encounter. Then A∣ronces's Foot resuming courage, and seeing those of Quality become equal with them in the danger they were to overcome, perform'd incredible things. In conclusion, in spight of all the valour of Horatius and the brave persons that accompani'd him, Aronces defeated them, and forc'd them to betake themselves to a retreat. Whereupon the Cavalry which were become Foot, in a moment, resuming their Hor∣ses, pursu'd the Romans very neer to the City. Yet this retreat was made somewhat orderly; neverthe∣less it caus'd terrour and confusion in Rome; and had not the Consuls acted with prudence and authority, the affrighted people had shut up the gates against the Roman Troops, for fear least the Conquerors should have enter'd together with the Conquered. The great number of the wounded which were brought back all bloody, further augmented the fear a∣mongst the people: and if the love of Liberty had not been strongly impress'd in their hearts, they had certainly enclin'd to a surrender. Nevertheless, in the midst of the great tumult, no Roman was heard to propose the receiving of Tarquin in order to peace. On the contrary, their first fear turning into sury nothing was heard but imprecations against him, and the fierce Tullia; and the most despairing amongst

them said aloud, that they ought rather to set fire on the City speedily, than deliver up themselves; that it was better to perish quickly and generously by the flames, than slowly and shamefuly by famine. At length the disorder became so great, that the like was never seen. There was a universal consternation in the streets and publick places. Artemidorus be∣ing brought in as the other wounded were, occa∣sion'd more rumors still, because he was a person of very high Quality, and extraordinary valour. The wound he had received was so dangerous, that the Chirurgions would not promise for his life. Where∣upon all his friends were extreamely troubled, and Berelisa and Clidamira taking no care but for the perservation of this Prince, employ'd themselves in performing all services he needed in this condition. As for Themistus and Horatius, their wounds were so little dangerous, that they were not necessitated to keep the chamber. Clelia had very different senti∣ments in so great a disorder; for she lov'd her Coun∣try, she pity'd all its calamities, and hated Tarquin: but for that she affected not Horatius, and lov'd Aron∣ces, it was something troublesome to her not to rejoyce that the latter had overcome the other. But judging this secret joy criminal, she soon chang'd it into a lawful sorrow. Just Gods! (said she to her self, sighing) wherefore doe you permit me the use of hatred and affection; since my fortune is dispos'd in such sort, that I can neither love nor hate without a crime, nor grieve nor rejoyce innocently? If I hate Horatius, I am unworthy to be a Roman, since he is a Roman that has sav'd Rome, that dayly hazards his lif to defend it, and comes from shedding his own blood for the safety of my Country. On the other side, if I love Aronces, I love a Prince that besieges Rome, whose valour is employ'd to subject it to the Tyrant, or reduce it to distruction. But again, if I love Horatius, I am perfidious, unfaithful, unworthy to live: and if I hate Aronces, I am perjur'd, and the most ungrateful person in the world. What then shall I do, unfortunate as I am? (proceeded she) I will submit my self to the will of the Gods (added this admirable Lady) and without arguing so much upon events, or desiring to foresee what is to come, I will have respect towards my Father, pity for my Country, esteem for Horatius, affection and fidelity to Aronces, and inocence in all my actions. In the mean time the Consuls and the Senate were in a very great perplexity; for what course soever they could take, all things necessary for the subsistence of the people became so dear, that this farther increas'd the repinings of the multitude. The Enemies who were advertis'd of this disorder, taking advantage of it, streightned the City more than before, so that nothing at all enter'd into it. They dar'd not so much as drive the little remainder of Cattle in Rome, out of the walls of the City to feed; and all the Inhabitants were in extreme desperation. All sorts of divertise∣ments were laid aside, even Lovers scarce spoke any longer love to their Mistresses; conversation was a∣like every where; and Amilcar and Anacreon who could not live without joy, profess'd they were more likely to dy of discontent than famine, if the state of things did not suddenly change. Nothing was seen every day but Funerals, either of those that had been wounded in the late fight, or whom the necessi∣ty of Fate cut off. There was a mortal paleness in most faces, and the fear of famine anticipating sad e∣ffects, caus'd the people to believe they suffer'd the misery already which they did but apprehend. Things being in this condition, that which more exasperated the people minds was, that they un∣derstood the fierce and cruel Tullia was arriv'd in the Camp of Porsenna, and demanded to live at a Castle, near that wherein Galerita was, till the end of the siege. But Mutius who had long sought to signalize himself by some eminent service to his Country, and to compel Valeria to esteem him above his Rivals, went to wait upon her one morning; and saluting her with a countenance that discover'd he had some grand design in his mind, Suffer me, Madam, (said he to her) to take leave of you alone, and to reveal a secret to you of highest importance. I have long a∣goe known that the passion I have for you is displea∣sing to you, and that of four Lovers which adore you, at present Herminius is the only affected, Aemilius the pity, Spurius the hate, and you are insensible towards me. Nevertheless, Madam, in spight of my unhap∣piness, I have taken a fancie to have a share in your compassion, since I can have none in your affection. Prepare your self therefore, Madam, to bestow a few tears upon me, when you shall understand my death? for I assure you, you have more interest than my Country in the Design which I have laid to deliver it. I cannot speak more clearly to you, time will inform you further, and let you know that bidding you adieu this day, I believe 'tis the last time I ever shall do so: but least your answer should weaken my resolution (added he) I chuse rather humbly to take leave with∣out expecting it. And accordingly without giving her time to answer a word, he went forthwith to the Senate, having first intimated to the Consuls he had somthing of importance to acquaint them with. When he came before the Assembly, beginning to speak with a heroical stoutness and a firm voice, My Lords (said he) I come to desire two favours of you: the first, that you would permit me to goe out of the City disguised in a Tuscan habit; the other, that you would not require me to declare what way I intend to attempt the deliverance of Rome. Secrecie is so absolutely necessary to the execution of my design, that I ought not to impart it to a great Assembly; and withal I have so high an esteem of your vertue in general, that I conceive I should doe you injury, if I offer'd to select any particular person of the company with whom to intrust it. Let it suffice that I assure you it is great, and may prove happy; and moreover, that if I dye, I shall account my life very gloriously be∣stow'd, since I shall loose it in recovering Liberty to my Country. Mutius having done speaking, the Senate deliberated upon what he had said; and tho there was little probability to think a single man could effect the raifing of the Siege, nevertheless matters were in so bad a condition, that knowing him for a person of illustrious extraction, high cour∣age, very zealous for Liberty, of a resolute minde, and much affected with a powerful desire of glory, they granted him what he requested. Upon which with∣out loss of time, that very evening he disguis'd him∣self like a plain Tuscan Soldier, and taking advan∣tage of the darkest time of the night to pass out of the City into the Enemies Camp, went forth of Rome with a Ponyard hidden in his cloaths, none besides himself knowing the great design, which affection to his Coun∣try, and love of the vertuous daughter of Publicola had together excited him to. Mutius's Nurse having be en a Tuscan-woman, he spoke Tuscan well enough not to fear being discover'd by his language. So he pass'd

over the Tyber at midnight, and was so fortunate as to arrive at Porsenna's Quarter without being stopt. When he was there, he thrust himself into the com∣pany of a great number of Souldiers, whom he be∣held gather'd together before a Tribunal rais'd on∣ly two steps high, upon which stood a man of good aspect, giving orders necessary for the pay of the Sol∣diers, and who seem'd to have all the marks of Roy∣altie; for he had a robe of purple on, and guards a∣bout him. Mutius approacht as neer him as he de∣sir'd; for appearing to have no arms, and being clad in a Tuscan garb, no body had any distrust of him. So he approacht the Tribunal, and apprehending the person upon it was Porsenna, not daring to inquire for fear of being discover'd, and doubting he should not find another opportunity so favorable to his purpose, on a sudden considering this man as the Enemy of Rome, the Protector of Tarquin, and finally as a Prince whose death was necessary for the deliverance of his Country, in a moment he divides the press, draws his Ponyard, falls upon him, and sheaths it in his heart, with such speed, that it was not seen till he had drawn it all bloody out of the body of him whom he took for Porsenna. This desperate act so surpris'd all that beheld it, that he that committed it might perhaps have sav'd himself in spight of those that en∣compass'd him, if Porsenna coming at that time forth of his Tent, which was hard by, and understanding the matter, had not commanded his guards to bring the man before him either alive or dead. And accor∣dingly, Mutius, tho he easily enough escap'd with his Ponyard in his hand out of the throng of the terrifi'd Soldiers who Beheld his fact, was constrain'd to yeild himself to be conducted before Porsenna by the guards he had sent to take him. This Prince was at that time before his Tent, where he beheld the prepar∣ations of a Sacrifice which he caus'd to be offer'd to the Gods every morning, and had standing about him Aronces, Telanus, Lucilius, Theanor, and diverse other persons of Quality. Mutius's Ponyard where∣with he had committed that bold act being wrested from him, he appear'd without arms before Porsenna, but with a countenance full of fierceness, that spoke his regret for having fail'd in his enterprise, but no fear of the death which he could not but believe was prepar'd for him. Assoon as he was come before the King, the enraged Prince frowning upon him, Who are you? (said he to him) whence come you? tell me, who sent you? who put you upon this? who are your Complices? and whether your aim was only against him you have slain, or you intended to take away my life too? I am a Roman Citizen (answer'd he fiercely) my extraction is noble, I am call'd Muti∣us, and the action I have newly done may prove to you that I want not courage. Considering you as the most dangerous Enemy of Rome, I resolv'd to take away your life; but to the end you may not think your self safe, when you have put me to death, know, I am not the only person that has layd this de∣sign, but there are three hundred of us that have sworn your destruction, of whom I am the most inconsiderable in greatness of courage. The lot is fallen upon me first, but I hope some of the rest will be more fortunate than I have been, and that by your death all the Romans shall be reveng'd for the wrong you commit in protecting an infamous Tyrant. But wherefore (repli'd Porsenna) have not the three hundred Conspirators you speak of, rather desig'nd to assassinate Tarquin than me? Because (answer'd Mutius) if the Tyrant were dead, your party would rather become stronger than weaker thereby; but if you were remov'd out of the world, Tarquin's party would be destroy'd. Porsenna being then more in∣cens'd against Mutius, and desiring to know the names of those, he said, had conjur'd against his life, commanded his guards to compel him by force to dis∣cover what he desir'd to understand. But Mutius, to hinder them from executing his order, stept sudden∣ly towards the fire that was prepar'd for the Sacrifice, and putting his hand into the midst of the flames, See (said he to him without changing his countenance) by the stedfastness I have to endure the rigour of the fire, how little they fear that ardently love glory, and judge by what I doe, whether I am likely to tell by force of torments what you desire to know of me. Mutius spoke this with so undaunted and bold an aspect, and beheld his hand burn with so calm a coun∣tenance, that Porsenna and all about him were so a∣stonish'd with this action, that they exprest their a∣mazement in shouts which they were unable to con∣tain. Porsenna himself advanc'd towards Mutius, and commanded his guards to withdraw his hand out of the fire. That which you doe against your self (said the King to him then, beholding him with ad∣miration) is far greater than what you design'd to doe against me; and if I had a Subject that had done as much for my service, there is no reward so high, but the greatness of his courage ought to expect it from me. Yet it were more noble, my Lord, (an∣swer'd Aronces) to esteem greatness of courage in the person of an enemy than of a Subject. I grant it (re∣ply'd Porsenna) and to evidence to you that I am of that mind, I give Mutius his life. I thank you for it in his name, my Lord (answer'd Aronces generously) for he seems to me so fierce as not to care for having a good render'd to him which he was willing to loose; and I thank you in my own, for having given me so great an example to follow. 'Tis true, my Lord (said Mutius) life is very indifferent to me: but for that 'tis an obligation, that the King is pleas'd to give me a thing which he believes ought to be accept∣able to me, I will testifie my gratitude to him, by telling him once again, that his life cannot be in safety unless he give peace to Rome, and desert the interest of Tarquin, who is too unjust to prosper long. For, in brief, I am the least courageous of the three hun∣dred that have sworn his destruction. Ah! Mutius (cry'd Porsenna) if I am so hated by three hundred such brave men as you are, that they resolve to destroy my life, an Army of a hundred thousand men could not preserve it; and to testifie to you how highly I esteem your courage, I will adde liberty to the life which I have already granted you. Since that is a thousand times dearer to me than life (answer'd he) I thank you for it, my Lord: but I cannot dissem∣ble my sentiments; know, that as great a benefit as it is, I cannot accept it, if it be on condition to cease being your Enemy, in case you continue to be one to Rome. For inasmuch as I can never cease to be a Ro∣mane, so I can never dispense with hating those that would subdue my Country. Therefore doe not grant me liberty, if you intend thereby to ingage me in your interests. For, 'tis certain (added he fiercely) I can never be absolv'd from the Oath I have made with those three hundred Romans, who have sworn your ruine. Porsenna being still more astonish'd at the boldness of Mutius, commanded he should be led into a Tent, that his hand should be drest, that he should

be treated very well, and secur'd till further Order. After which Tarquin being arriv'd, express'd to Por∣senna very much animosity against Mutius, and ask'd him what punishments he determin'd to inflict upon him. You ought rather to ask (answer'd Porsenna) what way I can secure my self from those three hun∣dred resolute persons, who for your interests have con∣spir'd against my life onely. That which I speak, my Lord (reply'd Tarquin) agrees with what you say: for is there any other means to avoid the effect of that Conspiracie, but by striking a terror into the Com∣plices by the dreadful punishments you shall cause Mutius to endure? But what can a man be made to suffer (said Porsenna) that comes in a manner to seek a certain death, that comes with a Ponyard onely, into the midst of an Army to kill me; that endures the fire without changing countenance, and will not ac∣cept either of life or liberty on condition to cease be∣ing my Enemy? Voluntary punishments (answer'd Tarquin) are no punishments at all: but if you force Mutius to suffer, you will see him change his lan∣guage; especially if the torments you put him to, be long and often repeated. For when all is done (added the cruel Tyrant) fear is the surest guard of Kings in such cases. For my part (said Aronces, who could not endure Porsenna should hear the Tyrant's Counsels) I conceive that instead of seeking which way the King may be secur'd from so many generous Enemies, it would be the best and surest course to seek the means to have no occasion to be secur'd from them. But how can that be? (said Tarquin roughly.) The matter would be very easie (answer'd Aronces generously) if the King would but make Friends of his Enemies. That Counsel (reply'd the Tyrant fiercely) must be extended further, and it should have been added also, that 'tis requisite for the King of Hetruria to make Enemies of his Friends. The Counsel of Aronces (said Porsenna, not permitting Tarquin to continue his discourse) is worthy of him∣self and of me; and when my friends betake them∣selves to consider only their own interests without considering mine, it will concern me a little if they become my Enemies; I shall then be more strong by having fastned generous Enemies to my Interests, than by losing self-ended Friends, who care only for their own. Aronces, Lucilius, Telanus, Theanor, and all the other Commanders that were present, having by a confus'd noise, testifi'd their approbation of what Porsenna spoke; Tarquin became extremely amaz'd and perplex'd: yet being a Prince whom Policie had taught to conform himself readily according to the most unexpected events, he made no long hesitation, but addressing to the King, My Lord (said he) to testifie to you that I have regarded only the preser∣vation of your life, I without passion receive what you spoke last, and also advise you to clemencie, tho according to my judgement, that vertue ought to be practis'd but seldome, when a Prince intends to make himself fear'd and respected. Pardon Mutius therefore since you have such a desire, but doe not loose the opportunity of taking Rome, which it can∣not avoid, if you will wait but a small time longer. It will not cost you the life of one of your Soldiers; famine is ready to destroy three hundred thousand men, and force them to yeild without conditions, or make a great bonfire of their City, to avoid falling into your power. Every one has his Maxims and his reasons (answered Porsenna) and the business is important enough to be con∣sider'd of at leasure. In the mean time (added the Prince) 'tis best to cause the Sacrifice which is pre∣par'd to be offer'd to the Gods in thankfulness to them for my deliverance from the danger intended to me, and to ask Counsel of them, which they alone can give me. Tarquin durst not contradict Porsenna; but instead of being present at the Sacrifice, he with∣drew, and went to consult with the cruel Tullia what was fitting to be done. Assoon as he was gone, Aron∣ces causing all his Friends to be assistant, continued the King his Father in the generous sentiments he had possess'd him with: but for that this Prince was scrupulous to make an absolute resolution, he required two dayes to consider. In the mean time, by reason of those three hundred Romans Mutius spoke of, the Kings guard's were doubled, none were suffer'd to come neer his person without first knowing what they were; all that approacht him were searcht, for fear they might have Ponyards hidden about them, as Mu∣tius had, and so great care was taken for the guard∣ing of this Prince, that he judg'd this inquietude worse than death. In the evening he went to the Castle where Galerita and the Princess of the Leontines were, who understanding what had hapn'd, and desiring to in∣cline him to peace, commended him much for hav∣ing given Mutius his life, and caus'd him to be advis'd by his principal Ministers, to send to offer peace to Rome. At first he refus'd it, alledging, that having undertaken the Protection of Tarquin, honour would not suffer him to desert him; adding also, that it might be thought the fear of being assassinated had induc'd him to take this resolution, tho it was prin∣cipally because the action of Mutius recalling into his memory all the great exploits that had been done since the War, by Brutus, Publicola, Herminius, Horati∣us, and all the other Romans, he began to know that Rome was protected by the Gods, and Tarquin aban∣don'd by them. Wherefore having some kind of remorse for having protected a Prince so unjust, a∣gainst People of so eminent vertue, he would willing∣ly have granted peace to Rome, if he had thought it consistent with his honour. His mind being thus dispos'd, he understood that Mutius's act render'd the valour of the Romans so formidable to his Soldiers, that forgetting the last advantage they obtein'd, a pannick fear seiz'd upon their minds in such sort, that at the least noise their Sentinels heard, they imagin'd they beheld the three hundred companions of Mutius coming to fall upon them. Porsenna understood at the same time, that Tarquin had drawn all his own Sol∣diers to his Quarter, which was on the other side the River; that he had had consultations with the fierce Tullia, that he had sent privily to the Cities of Ceres, Cumae, and Tarquinia, and lastly, that Tullia was com∣ing towards his Castle. Wherefore the proceeding of Tarquin incensing him further, he was easily brought to have such sentiments as Aronces desir'd he should. But for that Galerita fear'd the subtlety of Tullia, she took upon her self to receive her, whilst the King going another way return'd to the Camp. When that cruel Queen arriv'd, she was receiv'd by Galerita with the civility due to her condition. She seem'd surpris'd not finding the King there, with whom she desir'd to speak: but having a bold spirit, not easie to be daunted, she discours'd with Galerita as a person ingag'd in her interests would have done. She conjur'd her to hinder Porsenna from deserting the Siege of Rome; for in fine (said she to her) should Porsenna desire to keep his Conquest, I should

consent to it, and ingage my self to cause Tarquin to consent also: there being nothing which I would not rather chuse, than to see Rome in liberty. But where∣as it may be (added she) that the King of Hetruria de∣sires not to usurp the State of a Prince, whose Pro∣tection he hath undertaken; when Rome shall be ta∣ken, I offer to take my Daughter from Mamilius, and to give her to Aronces, and afterwards to bring it about, that Sextus shall be contented to Reign in Tarquinia. For my part, Madam, (answer'd Galerita) I have nothing to say to the proposals you make to me, but only that 'tis easie for you to judge that the Ro∣mans will never suffer Tarquin to be King of Rome, that 'tis absolutely impossible to establish him, by rea∣son of the horrible hatred they bear against him; and consequently Porsenna being unable to make war ad∣vantageously for Tarquin, may make peace honoura∣bly for him. Nevertheless, I know (added this wise Princess) the King will make what instance he can in favour of your interests: but however I am of opini∣on, it is not to cause the destruction of a great City and of a great Army, for a thing that is well known can never be brought to pass; especially (continu'd the Princess) when it is attempted in behalf of a Prince who considers only his own grandeur, and takes no care for the interests of those that hazard all for his. Tullia had much ado to restrain from returning Gale∣rita a sharp answer; but for that she would not make an absolute breach, to the end she might have more opportunity to prejudice Aronces and Clelia, she dis∣sembled her resentment, and told the Queen that it was necessary for her to go and satisfie the King of Hetruria, that he should not think strange that Tar∣quin staid at his Quarters till he had made his resolu∣tions, for fear lest his Enemies should induce him as well to deliver him up to the Romans, as to abandon the siege of Rome. And so taking leave of Galerita, she went forthwith to the Princess of the Leontines, and handsomely intimated to her, that if she could bring it so to pass, that Porsenna took Rome and re∣establisht Tarquin, she would cause her to be married to Prince Titus; after which she returned to her Chariot. Which she had no sooner done, but she was informed that the Souldiers that saw her pass a∣long murmur'd openly in the Camp, because their courage was imploy'd to replace a Woman upon the Throne, who had driven her Chariot over the body of her Father, and who ought rather to think of ren∣dring an account to the Gods of all her crimes, than Reigning in a City where so many brave people were. This plain advice, which she receiv'd by the Captain of her Guards, caus'd her to change her resolution. So that instead of going to find Porsenna, she return'd to Tarquin's quarter, and endeavour'd to perswade him to surprise the Kings of Hetruria's Camp by night; or since he could not take Rome, to imploy some correspondents she had in the City to set it on fire. In the mean time the proceedings of Tarquin having exasperated Porsenna, the siege being not like∣ly to go on well longer between two divided Camps, and Mutius's courage, together with Aronces's counsel having prevail'd upon the heart of the King of Hetru∣ria, he sent Mutius back again to Rome by Lucilius, who had order to offer the Romans peace upon rea∣sonable conditions. Telanus also accompani'd Lucili∣us to negotiate this grand affair. Their instructions were; first to demand once more the restoration of Tarquin, yet without much insisting upon an Article which was known could never be granted: Second∣ly to obtain at least, that all he had by Succession from the first Tarquin, and all he had gotten since, should be deliver'd to him: and thirdly that a small Territory near the Veientines should be restor'd to Por∣senna, the Romans having usurpt it from him ever since the last War. Upon these Conditions they were to offer up the Janiculum, and withdraw the Army out of the Roman Territories. Moreover, to the end all acts of hostility might sooner cease, he enjoyn'd the Ambassadors to demand twenty Virgins of Qua∣lity for Hostages, and twenty Youths of Condition, till the perfect conclusion of the peace: refusing ab∣solutely to yield up the Janiculum or withdraw his Army without this condition. Lucilius and Telanus being well instructed what they should do, depart∣ed with Mutius, whose heart was possess'd with ex∣tream joy to see his design so happily succeed, and that his Lie was as serviceable to the deliverance of Rome as his valour: for it was not true, that three hundred Romans had sworn the death of Porsenna, and he spoke in this manner only to induce the King to raise his Siege. As for Aronces he was so joyful with the hope of seeing Peace, that he could not contain from going to declare it to the Princess of the Leon∣tines, and the generous Melintha. He was also much pleas'd that he could send that old Man to Rome, whom Galerita promis'd him to procure deliver'd, and Plotina so ardently wisht to see, to the end she might learn her extraction, of which she was still ig∣norant. Wherefore to make use of this favourable opportunity of giving Clelia intelligence of himself, he writ to her by Telanus, and to Artemidorus, Hermi∣nius and Octavius, and several other friends, to oblige them to be diligent in promoting the peace. When Lucilius and Telanus approacht the Walls, and the peo∣ple heheld them coming with Palms in their hands to signifie their bringing Propositions of Peace, they sent forth shouts of joy, they run hastily to the gate at which they were to enter, and express'd such ear∣nestness to know what they had to say, that 'twas easie to judge they would be favourably heard. So they were immediately conducted before the Se∣nate, to whom Lucilius presented Mutius; after which, relating in few words what had pass'd, and had hand∣somly magnifi'd Porsenna's generosity, who was capa∣ble not only to give life and liberty to a man that had resolv'd upon his death, but also to send to offer peace at a time when he might hope a happy event of the War; he dextrously dispos'd the minds of the Sena∣tors to hear the Propositions he had to make. Yet he was stopt at the first Article which he spoke of the re∣establishment of Tarquin, and the Senate all with one voice said that death being eligible before servitude, no peace was to be hop'd, if it could not be made otherwise. Whereupon Lucilius having order not to insist upon that Article, he said that according to his instructions, that at least it was fit to restore the Tarquins what be∣long'd to them as ordinary Citizens; so that this qua∣lification calming their minds they agreed the restitu∣tion of what could be yet found had belong'd to them, not as if justice requir'd it, but only in consideration that Porsenna had restor'd Mutius. After which Lucili∣us demanded that a small compass of Territory which had been usurp'd from Porsenna's Dominions should be restor'd to him; that twenty Virgins of Quality, and twenty youths of condition should be deliver'd to him in hostage; and told them then, that his Master would withdraw his Forces out of Janiculum, open the pas∣sages, free the River, and cause all acts of hostility

to cease, without ingaging more in the affairs of Tarquin. Lucilius having lay'd open his King's de∣mands, did not long withdraw, but all those that compos'd the Senate unanimously declar'd, they found no difficulty in granting what Porsenna required. Yet there were some that scrupled the Article concerning Hostages; but Porsenna understanding how impor∣tant that peace was, and that they who stuck at it could not but have some secret inclination for Tarquin (because having no children themselves, they were unconcern'd in this Article) he oppos'd his judgment; No, no, (said he hastily) we ought not to stick at a just thing; for it is equitable that Porsenna, restoring the Janiculum before the final execution of the Treaty that is to be made, have Hostages for security; and it is not to be fear'd, that a Prince who sends back an Enemy whom he might with justice retain, will keep back Hostages, which he cannot withhold without violating the Publick-Faith. But how is it intended (answer'd a Senator roughly that was on the contra∣ry opinion) that those twenty Virgins of Quality shall be chosen out? To testifie to the Publick (re∣ply'd Publicola) that I have no intention to except my own daughter from the general rule, and that all that is mine is the commonwealth's, my advice is, that the choice be made by order of Lot without any deceit, and that all the names of Youths of Quality in general be put into one Urne, and those of Virgins of condition in another; and that in the middle of the Temple of Janus, which ought to be shut up as∣soon as these Hostages shall be delivered, a young Child shall draw twenty of these Tickets which shall be well mingled before hand, after which without any contest they whose names shall be found in the twenty Tickets, to be sent to Porsenna. Publicola's opinion seeming just and generous, they who had offered to obstruct the peace, durst not contradict it. But before they broke up, the Senate Voted to give Mutius the Meadow in which he had done that great action of enduring the fire with such extroardinary constancy. And accordingly that peice of Land was from that time called, The Mutian-Meadows, and he himself was term'd Mutius Saevola by reason of his burnt hand. After this result had been taken, it was signifi'd to Lucilius and Telanus, who nevertheless could not return till the day following, because the Senate would not absolutely conclude the business without the suffrages of the people. 'Tis true, it was easie to judge they would approve the delibera∣tions that were made, for they had suffered far more than those of the better Quality. Telanus after he came out of the Senate delivered Aronce's Letters to Clelia, and the rest he writ to; he intended also to carry the old man who accompanied him to Ploti∣na; but he requested him to leave him at Clelius's house. However Telanus desir'd at least to signifie to that fair Virgin, of whom he was still amorous, that Aronces had kept his word which he had pass'd; and to that purpose he went to wait upon her, where he found good company; for Valeria, Berelisa, Anacreon, Amilcar, Herminius, Acrisius, and Spurius were with her, as also Octavius and Horatius. The action of Mutius, and the Peace being two matters new and impor∣tant, they were talked of alone in all companies, every one magnifying or diminishing the merit of Mutius's act, according to their own judgements or inclinations. For that Telanus was esteemed by all the World, he was received with joy; he was askt tid∣ings concerning Aronces, he was thanked for the peace as if he had made it, and a thousand caresses were made to him, For my part (said Plotina pleasantly) I believe Berelisa, Clidamira and my self see Telanus a∣gain with more joy than Valeria; for being they are not of Rome, and I think my self no Roman, (tho I know not precisely what I am) we are not in the same fear that she is of going as Hostage to Por∣senna's Camp. That which you do not fear (an∣swered Telanus) is that which discontents me; for I should be sufficiently joyful that you were in a place where I could render you any service. 'Tis true (said Valeria) with a melancholy aspect) my joy for the peace is not absolutely pure, and fear lest the Lot fall upon me, sufficiently disturbs me. Con∣fess the truth (said Berelisa to her with a low voice) 'tis not that alone that causes the sadness in your eies; but your fear left Mutius's action which produces peace to Rome, cause Publicola to change his mind, and be prejudicial to Herminius, occasions your discon∣tent. 'Tis true (reply'd Valeria blushing) my Fa∣ther is so accustomed to Sacrifice all things to the Publick-good, that I cannot but fear becoming one of the Victims of the Peace. Whilst Berelisa and Valeria were speaking low, Plotina not being able to contain from turning the most serious matters to rail∣lery: for my part (said she) I confess I have at pre∣sent the greatest ardency in the world to know who were the three hundred men which 'tis said Mutius affirmed had conspir'd to kill Porsenna. I know at least I am none of them (answer'd Herminius). I should be very sorry to be suspected for one (added Horatius) I am of your mind (pursu'd Octavius.) Anacreon and I (said Amilcar) being not born at Rome, we have no concernment in it, since Mutius said they were three hundred young Romans who had conspir'd against Porsenna's life. As for me (said Spurius) where∣as Mutius and I have not the same intimacy as here∣tofore, it cannot be believ'd that he communicated his design to me. And for my part (added Acrisius) I have several reasons for which I cannot be accus∣ed for one; as first, I was not born in Rome: Se∣condly,—Oh! I beseech you (interrupted Plo∣tina laughing, and knowing how much Acrisius af∣fected to speak) stop there, for I hate nothing more than those people who in a great company where every one has right to say something, begin to speak with First, and to proceed to Secondly, and Thirdly, and I am ready to dye with fear, left they should go on till they come to Fiftiethly. All the company laughing at the manner in which Plotina interrupted Acrisius, he was a little abashed; but yet he was con∣strained to bear the railery whether he would or no, for fear of offending Plotina, of whom he was high∣ly enamoured. However, this fair Virgin that she might not give him leisure to be angry, chang'd the discourse, and beholding all those that had spoken, But according as you all speak (said she) it might seem an injury to you to accuse you of being any of those three hundred Conspirators. To save you the trouble of searching for so great a number of them (said Telanus then) I shall assure you I believe Mutius was the sole person, and made use of that untruth to induce Porsenna to what he desir'd; for by the way as he came hither, he spoke certain things which suffer me not to doubt of it at all. If it be so said Plo∣tina) I think this unhappy adventure ought to recon∣cile Herminius to lying. 'Tis so far from it (answer'd he) that I shall hate it the more, for tho I am zealous for my Country, yet I confess I should not like to

deliver it either by a Lye or an Assassination; and if I were to chuse either Horatius's action or that of Mutius, I should not deliberate a moment, not∣withstanding the success of the last is far more consi∣derable than of the former. But that it may not be thought I speak as a Rival or as an envious person, I shall commend Mutius for the constancy where∣with he endur'd the torment of the flames that burnt his hand, and for his courage in attempting a thing in which it is probable he would perish: but as for the Lye and Assassination, I confess to you, I cannot find any thing in them that does not clash with my inclination. For according to my judge∣ment, to do an action perfectly Heroical, not onely the motive to it ought to be just, but likewise the means noble and innocent. Indeed (added Valeria) suppose an indifferent cause in the action of Mutius, he will be the greatest Criminal of all mankind, and the most inconsiderate; and he can not be commend∣ed saving for a happy rashness. Should you speak this at present in the Court of the Capitol (answer'd Plo∣tina) the people would look upon you as an Enemy of Rome. Nevertheless Valeria has reason (reply'd O∣ctavius). But however (said Amilcar) 'tis good there be Heroes of all sorts, that is, such as are scrupulous scarce of any thing, rash and Lyers; for in brief, without Mutius you had had no peace: wherefore I conclude, that the Lye he made use of, be put in the rank of those innocent Lies of which we spoke so much here one day. It will be enough (answer'd Her∣minius to put it in the rank of happy Lies. In truth (said Plotina then) I perceive there are scarce any plea∣sures how great soever, but are mix'd with some sor∣row. Peace which is so great a good, perhaps will shortly cause several displeasures to me: for I appre∣hend Berelisa, Clidamira, and Anacreon will speedily go from us: and besides, I am in great fear lest the Lot which is to appoint those twenty Virgins of Quality that are to be given in Hostage, should cruelly deprive me of all those I love best. As Plotina had done speak∣ing, Clelia enter'd, who came to seek Valeria there. A little while after Cesonia brought Clelius into Plo∣tina's chamber, with the same old man whom she had seen once before, and who was to inform her of her true extraction. Assoon as she beheld him, she chang'd colour, out of fear it might be less honoura∣ble than she imagin'd. But she was not long in this incertainty; for Clelius in the midst of the company embrac'd her very affectionately, and presenting her to Horatius, You know, gene∣rous Horatius (said he to him) I have treated you as one resolv'd to give you my daughter at the end of the War, but in the mean time be∣fore I make that promise good, I must give you a sister, who is a person unquestionably worthy of that Relation. Receive therefore Plotina as a generous brother ought to receive her. But Moreover (added he, turning towards Clelia) I must give my daugh∣ter as well as Horatius a sister; and therefore. (proceed∣ed he, directing his speech to Clelia) embrace Plotina as a person united to you by blood: and you, Octavius (added he) do the same. The discourse of Clelius so amaz'd all the Company, and chiefly Clelia, Ho∣ratius, Octavius, and Plotina, that they beheld one a∣nother silently, without making the civilities to one another which this discovery requir'd. But at length Plotina began to speak, and addressing to Clelius, It is so little advantagious to you, my Lord (said she) to give such a person as I am, sister to Cle∣lia, that I doubt not you are my Father, since you pro∣fess it your self: but I confess I do not apprehend how I can be sister both to Horatius and Clelia. Since 'tis a thing which must become publick (reply'd Clelius) it is not unfit to begin the publishing of it before such a Company as this is. For my part (said Horatius) I am so impatient to know how it comes that I have the happiness to be Plotina's Brother, and brother to a daughter of Clelius, and a sister of Clelia, that you cannot more sensibly oblige me than by de∣claring to me what I vehemently desire to understand. Know then (answer'd Clelius) that you were son of a woman of very great wit and vertue, for whom I had almost from my childhood the most respectful affection that ever was, and whose memory is still extreme dear to me. You know she lost her Hus∣band during her banishment, that I was exil'd as well as she, that I have been so thrice in my life by the cruel Tarquin. During this banishment I became more charm'd with her constancy; and whereas me∣lancholy had rendred her health very infirm, she fear'd to leave you without a careful guardian. Wherefore this consideration rather than that of the affection I had for her, oblig'd her to marry me secret∣ly, as you may know of an ancient Priest still living, who is at present here amongst the Salians; for you were not then with her. Our marriage was thought fit to be conceal'd, because if Tarquin had known it, it had been impossible for us to hope ever to return to Rome, since hating us severally, he would have hated us more if he had understood our interests were unit∣ed. During this secret Marriage, and whilst we were at Ardea, Plotina came into the world, and we con∣ceal'd her birth. But eight daies after, her mother and yours dy'd; and this prudent old man whom you see, being our intimate Friend, took care of Plotina, whom he caus'd for some time after to pass for his own daughter, and that easily enough; because hav∣ing one near of the same age that dy'd in the Coun∣try, he conceal'd her death, and substituted Plotina in her stead, without my knowing any thing of it, be∣cause I continued not long in that place. Your Mo∣ther before her death writ a scroll with her own hand that she left a daughter, and oblig'd me to deliver that writing to the Grand Vestal who dy'd some daies since, and was her intimate friend, to the end it might remain in her hands as an indubitable testimony of the birth of Plotina. Shortly after I was oblig'd to depart from Ardea, and came back to Rome, where for the interest of my affairs I married Sulpicia; since which, you know I was compell'd to fly and go seek a Sanctuary at Carthage. At my departure I writ to that Friend I had at Ardea, but I had no answer from him. When I return'd, I inquir'd of him, and was inform'd it was not known what was become of him since the War Tarquin made against the Tuscans. I understood indeed he left a daughter, but for that it was after my departure that his dy'd, I did not imagine it was mine. Nevertheless the Gods have been pleas'd that this prudent old man whom you behold, became first a prisoner of War, and afterwards a prisoner of State for a great many years, without being known where he was: and the same Gods have permitted that by Aronces's means he understood tidings of me, came hither first with that Prince, and has at length been set at liberty by his procurement, to come and oblige the wise Octavia, who is at this day chief of the Vestals, to cause the writing to be sought out which was entrusted with her predecessor, who at her death

intended certainly to speak concerning Plotina when she began to declare a thing which she did not finish, as all the world knows. Thus there is no doubt but Plotina is your sister; you know your Mothers wri∣ting, since you cannot but have many things by you written by her hand. The quality and vertue of him that brought up Plotina is not unknown to a∣ny, and I conceive you are sufficiently perswaded of my honesty not to doubt of what I say. In the mean time I declare to you, I do not intend Plotina should diminish any thing of your estate, I charge my self with her potion; and this sage old man before you, desirous not to cease altogether to be her father, tells me, he gives her all he has. Clelius spoke this with an air that took away all ground to doubt of what he said; and moreover Horatius was so joyful to find he had a sister that was able to do him good offices with Clelia, that he was wholly dispos'd to believe himself her brother. Plotina was also very much sa∣ti••fied to understand she was a Roman, daughter of Clelius, and sister of Octavius and Clelia. Not but that I could have wish'd (said she, smiling) I had not un∣derstood this till four daies hence, to the end my name might not be put amongst those which are to be drawn by Lot to give Hostages to Porsenna The case is now otherwise, daughter (answer'd Clelius) and it concerns you it were not; but I hope the Gods will exempt you from that trouble, as well as Clelia, who I ardently wish prove not one of the number of the Hostages. After this, Octavius made a complement to Plotina, Clelia did the same, and, in brief, all congra∣tulated her for the discovery. Amilcar in particular us'd a thousand pleasant expressions to her, whilst Clelius and the old man of Ardea drawing Horatius aside, shew'd him his Mothers Letter to the Grand Vestal, and so manifested the business to him, that he could not doubt of so advantageous a truth. Indeed he did no longer doubt at all, but that now he had cause to redouble his hopes. The end of the War was near, he knew Porsenna had not changed his mind concerning Aronces's love; he understood Clelius was already his Father-in-law, that he had a sister who was an intimate friend to Clelia, and was sister also to that fair Virgin as well as to himself. Where∣fore he abandon'd his heart to joy, and testifi'd it both by his actions and words. As for Clelia tho she had a great affection for Plotina, yet she was inwardly trou∣bled at this adventure; because she perceived Hora∣tius had still more power in the mind of Clelius, and fear'd lest knowing her self sister to Horatius, she should engage in his interest. But that lovely Virgin made not that use of her affinity; but on the contrary observing part of Clelia's thoughts in her eies, she handsomely separated her from the rest of the Com∣pany, and embracing her with tenderness, I beseech you, my dear sister (said she with a low voice) do not look coldly upon me as a sister of Horatius that in∣tends to undertake his interests against you; for I de∣clare to you, that by becoming his sister, I do not cease to be Aronces's friend, and that I will not employ the right given me by nature of speaking freely to him, onely to tell him that since he cannot be lov'd by you, he ought not to seek his own happiness with the prejudice of yours; and I ingage my self also to tell my Father whatever you dare not. And now after this, love me as before, and if possible a little more. I had long since so great an affection for you (answer'd Clelia) that it would be hard for me to augment it: but after what you have said, I assure you, my dear sister, that if I cannot add to my af∣fection, I will encrease my esteem, and will serve you in reference to Sulpicia as ardently as you shall me in respect of Horatius. As Clelia ended these words, Horatius approacht the two fair Virgins, and looking upon Plotina, Well my dear sister (said he to her) will you not assist me to overcome the obsti∣nate constancy of Clelia? No, brother (answer'd she) but to give you the Counsel of a good sister, I will ad∣vise you to endeavour to overcome your self. She would have proceeded, but Amilcar imagining he should do a pleasure both to Clelia and Plotina by insi∣nuating himself into the conversation of Horatius, went to them, and so did Anacreon; whilst Clelius was manifesting to Cesonia, Berelisa, and Clidamira the ad∣venture he had related. Plotina not having chang'd her humour with her condition, smil'd after having mus'd a little while, and addressing to Clelia, I assure you (said she to her) I gain an advantage this day a∣bove you, which I much fear will be much disadvan∣tageous to me in Amilcar's opinion: for at the same time I know I am your elder sister, as being of the first Marriage; I also learn that I am at least four or five years older than I thought my looking glass inti∣mated to me, and I almost believ'd it, that I was on∣ly nineteen years of age; but I conceive by what Cle∣lius has related, I am twenty four. Oh! amiable Plotina (answer'd Amilcar) you will never be above seventeen to me; for as long as a woman pleases me I account her young. And on the contrary, I know some Virgins of fifteen years, who seem to me above an Age old, because they do not please me. Moreo∣ver, to speak the truth of things, twenty four years are oftentimes the age of perfect beauty, and in which reason and beauty may most frequently be found to∣gether: for usually when reason comes, beauty de∣parts: but at that time they are exactly together. Nevertheless, there is no general rule; for some wo∣men are more beautiful in the midst of their lives than in the prime of their youth; others too, more fools at the end of their daies than at the beginning of their lives; and there are some in whom reason is found from their very Childhood. For my part (said Plotina.) I am of this latter sort, and I do not remember that I ever was without reason: for from my tenderest youth, I knew I should one day be no longer young. I know above a hundred women (said Amilcar) that are not of your mind. You have reason (repli'd she) but I wonder all the fair ones do not foresee the end of their beauty. Yet I know some as well as you, that believe they shall never be above eighteen as long as they live; altho 'tis easie enough to judge time passes away very swiftly. Methinks, 'tis but a moment since I was a child; and if I should consider the future in the same manner as I do the time pass'd, I should think I should soon cease to be young. Believe me, amiable Plotina (said Amil∣car) the pass'd and the future are not alike regarded. But how can that be which you say? (demanded Plotina) We see things pass'd clearly (answer'd Amil∣car) but there is so great obscurity in the future, that the imagination not being able to penetrate into it, deceives it self, and believes that that which it does not see, is very remote; so that whereas people al∣ways love to beguile themselves to their own advan∣tage, they look upon old age as so remote, and flatter themselves so pleasingly, that they do not fear e∣ven the things which must undoubtedly happen. That which further has perswaded me (reply'd Ploti∣na)

that I had use of Reason betimes, is, that from my first youth I extremely hated sadness, and lov'd every thing that was capable to please me. That sentiment is so natural (said Clelia) that I conceive you ought not to boast of it, and on the contrary I apprehend it to be the practice of reason oftentimes to accustome ones self to sadness, and to refuse delightful things. If what you say be true (answer'd Plotina) I shall never be wise as long as I live; for I cannot much refuse that which pleases me, nor accustome my self to that which does not. After this Clelius calling Clelia commanded her to go and prepare Sulspicia to receive her Sister, assuring her he had acquainted her with the matter before he came. Then he requested Cesonia that she would please to lead Plotina to his house; and accord∣ingly that amiable Lady accompani'd with Berelisa, Clidamira, and Plotina, and conducted by Clelius, went to Sulspicia's house. where Clelia was arriv'd before. But altho Sulspicia very much respected her husband, and esteemed Plotina infinitely, and altho Clelia had inform'd her of the generous and noble mind of this fair Virgin: yet it was easie to observe that she had a secret regret in the botome of her heart, to see that Clelius had heretofore married a Person whom she hated, and had a daughter by her. Nevertheless she receiv'd very civilly all that Plotina spoke at her ar∣rival at her house, and this interview pass'd as it ought among persons of honour and prudence. Moreover, he that had been instrumental to the own∣ing of Plotina, continu'd also at Clelius's house, who to testifie more favour to Horatius, took Plotina by the hand, and beholding Clelia with authority in his countenance, 'Tis your part now (said he to Plotina) to promote the happiness of your brother, and to in∣duce your sister to obey me willingly when the Peace shall be concluded. After which he left these two fair Virgins, without giving them leave to answer. The next morning the people being assembled confirm'd the Senates Votes with a thousand acclamations: which gave Lucilius and Telanus all the contentment they could desire. The people also would not con∣sent that both of them should return to Porsenna, and therefore it was resolv'd that Lucilius should go to the Camp, and Telanus should stay at Rome to be present at the choice which was to be made of the Ho∣stages by Lot. The multitude on which the hard∣ship of the Siege had fallen, being impatient to see the passages open, and the Janiculum restor'd into the power of the Romans, according to the conclusion of the Treaty, there was necessity of making haste, for fear of some sedition. Wherefore the Consuls caus'd no∣tice to be given to all women of quality to bring their Daughters to the Temple of Janus. Things standing thus, Horatius being led by his passion, and forgetting what he one day promis'd Clelia, went to visit her Fa∣ther, and addressing to him, My Lord (said he) I come to make a Proposal to you, which I know indeed con∣tains something that may displease you; but being I act for your interest, and the quiet of my whole life, you ought to pardon me. You know (added he) that you have promis'd Clelia to me at the end of the War; and that lots are to be drawn for the Hostages which Porsenna demands. Now if it pleases fortune to chuse Clelia, she will not be long in your power, since the little Territory which is to be render'd to the King of Hetruria will not be soon restor'd; for besides that such like Articles are never perform'd speedily, Policy also requires, that Porsenna's party be not strengthned till Tarquin be absolutely discarded by him. There∣fore, my Lord, to prevent Clelia's going to a place whither you would be sorry she should goe, cause her to change her condition; for if I marry her to day, she will not be tomorrow expos'd to the inconvenience of the Lot, since it concerns only Virgins, and wives are exempted from it. I wish with all my heart (an∣swer'd Clelius) I could grant that which you desire; but I cannot do it with honour: for it would clearly appear that I hastned the match on purpose not to ex∣pose my daughter to the hazard of being given in Hostage; which were unworthy of a true Roman. But hoping I shall be more happy than to become oblig'd to let her goe into Porsenna's hands, I promise to make her your wife assoon as the Treaty shall be accom∣plisht. And so let us speak no more of this matter; for I will not be liable to the reproach of intending to effect an especial priviledge to my self to exempt my daughter from a troublesome chance in which all others of her condition are concern'd. In fine, the business was perform'd the very next morn∣ing, and some Romane Ladies desirous out of gener∣osity to testifie their willingness to sacrifice all for their Country, brought their daughters tho sick to the Temple of Janus, for fear of being suspected of intending to exempt them from this ceremonie. The generous Racilia led thither the fair Hermilia her niece, whose countenance exprest all the grief she resented for the death of her illustrious brother and her Lover; and her sorrow renewing more in this occasion, appear'd so affecting an object, that it touch'd the hearts of all that beheld her. Indeed she was not the only person that appear'd sad; for the Lot being promiscuously contingent to all, there was none but fear'd it might fall upon her self, and accounted it a hard fate to goe to the Camp. Cle∣lia, for her part, was not a little apprehensive of be∣ing under Porsenna's power, Valeria fear'd to be re∣mov'd from Horatius, Plotina to leave Rome, and her Friend, and all in general, to goe alone into the hands of an Enemy Prince. But all these fair Vi∣ctims being at length ranked in the middle of the Temple of Janus, which was enlightned with a hundred magnificent Lamps, the Grand Vestal came, follow'd with three of her companions to render the ceremony more solemn, and that with such majesty and grace, that she drew the eyes of the whole Assem∣bly upon her. The Consuls plac'd themselves beneath her in this place. But Clelia transcended all the other fair ones in beauty; Valeria, tho less fair, yet did not seem much less amiable; Hermilia, notwithstanding her sadness, wholly gain'd the heart of Octavius; Co∣latinia also appear'd very fair to all that beheld her, and Plotina with her free, natural, and pleasant aspect and the amiable freshness of her countenance, aug∣mented the love of Amilcar, Telanus, Acrisius, and Da∣mon too, who presently departed. Valeria likewise in∣creased the passion of Herminius, Aemilius, Spurius, and Mutius.

But to be brief, the Priest having taken the names of all the Virgins of Quality, whose number was very great, put them into a large Urne, and hav∣ing mingled them together, plac'd it at the foot of the Altar: after which offering a Sacrifice only of Incense and Flowers, the Grand Vestal in the name of all the fair Virgins tender'd their acquiescence to the Gods, to the end that all submitting themselves to the Orders of Lot, all might have a share in the me∣rit of the action, and in the Liberty of Rome. Octavia perform'd this with so noble an air, that she excited

the admiration of all the Spectators. This being done, a young childe approaching to the Urne where∣in all the names were confusedly mingled, drew forth twenty of them one after another. The first was that of Plotina, who seem'd not to be discover'd for a Romane, but only that she might be presently given in Hostage. The second was of a sister of Flavia; the third of a niece of Spurius, who was very fair; the fourth of Hermilia, who could not hear her self nam'd without tears in her eyes; the fifth, of Valeria, who blusht when she heard her name; the sixth, of a daughter of the second Consul; the seventh, of Colatina; the eighth, of a Cousin of Solomina; and the ninth, of a niece of Clelius. After this ten more were drawn. So that there remaining onely one more to be drawn, it was thought Clelia would have escap'd. But at length the twentieth Ticket being drawn and open'd, Clelia's name was found in it. Clelius was very much troubled at it, but he conceal∣ed his discontent; which Horatius was not able to doe, but it was apparent enough in his eyes that he was extremely afflicted for Clelia's going to Porsenna's Camp, because he fear'd her vertue would mollifie the King's mind; or if it did not, she would not be well treated. Octavius's heart was mov'd to see Hermilia, so afflicted as she was, go into a Victorious Army which would alwayes bring into her memory the death both of her Brother and her Lover. As for Mutius, he was not very sorry that Valeria was to goe to Porsenna, by whom he hop'd to be protected, tho he had intend∣ed an attempt upon his life; but Herminius and Aemilius were so afflicted at it, that their sorrow serv'd to comfort Spurius for that grief he would have resented if he had been ignorant of their afflic∣tion. As for Amilcar, perceiving no very great sad∣ness in Plotina's eyes, and being free to see her in Porsenna's Camp as well as at Rome, he thought to himself this change of life would give him a new af∣fection without being oblig'd to change his Mistress. Telanus was very glad of this adventure; but Acrisius, Sicinius, and Damon much afflicted. As for Clelia, she did not certainly know what sentiments she ought to have: by reason of her natural modesty she could not but regret at her going to Porsenna's Camp; but otherwise her interests were so intricate, that she could not well disintangle them. She was not sorry to be remov'd from Horatius, and glad to think she should see Aronces: but she was to leave Sulpicia, and goe into the power of Porsenna, with whom she conceiv'd Tarquin and Sextus were not likely to make a total breach, and who she knew well did not approve the love Aronces had for her. Yet it was a consolation to her to have Valeria, Plotina, and Hermilia for her com∣panions: but for all this, she was very sad as well as the rest of her Friends. All the influence the Publick interest had in the minds of these fair Virgins, only caus'd them to constrain themselves as much as they could, that they might not seem much afflicted for a thing that conduc'd to confirm the peace. Assoon as their names were drawn, crowns of flowers were put upon their heads, and they were oblig'd to thank the Gods for chusing them to establish the liberty of Rome. Moreover, the names of twenty young youths of Quality were drawn by Lots; after which it was resolv'd to send the Hostages assoon as Lucilius was return'd, and Porsenna had confirm'd the Articles of Peace carry'd to him; and every one departed home. Then the fair Virgins prepared for their departure, and receiv'd the Adieus of their Lovers and Friends of both Sexes. Horatius express'd himself to Clelia in the most pathetical words the most violent love could dictate, and the most nice jealousie suggest to him. Mutius spoke to Valeria with more fierceness than ordinary, and like a man that thought nothing could be refus'd him after having procur'd peace to Rome. I know well, cruel Valeria (said he to her) that you look upon what I have done for Rome, as if I had done it against you; but perhaps you will change your thoughts during your absence; in the mean time you must permit me to hope that Publicola, who is more sensible of the Pub∣lick-good than you, will thank me for what I have done for it, and be unwilling you should render me miserable. If my Father could render you happy (an∣swer'd she) without violating his own word, and forcing my will, without doubt he would doe it; and were it in my power to hinder you from being miser∣able, I would doe it out of gratitude. But, Mutius, you require a thing absolutely impossible, therefore preserve no ill-grounded hope in your breast; Her∣minius is the only man in the world that I can love; and if I could cease to be his, I ought then to favour Aemilius, and not you. Ah! cruel Valeria (cry'd Mutius) consider what the Lover you despise is cap∣able of doing, and fear lest he act that against his own Enemies which he has done against the Enemies of Rome. As you pretend to have perform'd a brave action (answer'd she) so there is reason to believe you will not blemish it by an ignoble one; and be∣sides, to tell you freely, threatnings never cause any fear in me. You intend then (added he) that I must dye with despair, and burn eternally without hoping a moment of release in my torments. You can endure the fire so constantly (reply'd she with a little too sharp raillery) that you are less to be pityed than another. But, in brief, Mutius (added she) content your self with the glory you have acquired, doe not blemish it with unjust menaces, addict your self rather to ambition than love, and leave me in quiet. I shall obey you, Madam (said he to her) and if I cannot leave you in quiet as you desire, I shall employ the same hand against my self that has lately given peace to Rome. Since I am alwayes alike equitable (answer'd Valeria) I oppose that which you intend to doe against your self, as I would oppose that which you should offer to attempt a∣gainst another. No, no, Madam (said he to her) I have nothing to doe with your equity; and when the fancie takes me, I shall know well how to doe my self justice. In this manner Mutius parted from Valeria. Aemilius bid her Adieu like an unhappy Lover that dar'd not hope any thing, Spurius like a man that never despair'd of any thing, but alwayes believ'd what could not be obtain'd by merit or force, might be by subtlety. As for Octavius, his farewell to Hermilia was so respectful a declaration of Love, that this fair Virgin, as sad as she was, could not be offended at it. Sicinius following his own humor, bid Plotina Adieu in two words; Acrisius on the con∣trary employ'd a thousand in saying almost nothing to her. Damon who knew of the Dialogue Amilcar made while he was sick, spoke to her more against his Ri∣val than of his own passion; and as for Amilcar, he told her he would conduct her to the Camp, and assist Telanus to convoy her. Colatina had no Lover at Rome whom she regreted, and so was not troubled to bid adieu to any but her friends. Berelisa and Clida∣mira were much afflicted to see all these fair persons

depart, and so was Anacreon. Indeed Artemidorus's sickness most of all took up their care, they went to visit him very frequently, sometimes with Sulpicia, Berelisa, or Cesonia, but with this advantage to Bere∣lisa, that the Prince notwithstanding his weakness, observed this fair Virgin was more troubled for his wounds than Clidamira. He perceiv'd her more sad and dejected, and beheld in the other more pretence than true sorrow.

Lucilius being at length return'd, and having brought back the confirmation of the Peace, not∣withstanding the negotiations of Tarquin and Tullia to break it, preparation was made to send away the Hostages. Accordingly the next morning all the young Youths that were to be given in Hostage, were led to the foot of the Janiculum, and the twenty fair Virgins conducted by their relations were put into the hands of the Consuls, who having caus'd magnificent Chariots to be prepar'd for them, caus'd them to be convey'd by Horatius, Octavius, and Her∣minius with the Troops that accompani'd them to the foot of the Janiculum. By the way as they went, all the people made a thousand vows for their preserva∣tion; and being come to that place, Lucilius and Te∣lanus sent Porsenna's Orders to cause the passages to be quitted, and did the like to those that kept the Janiculum. Whereupon the forces that kept this place began to draw off towards the King of Hetruria's Camp, at the same time that those which follow'd Horatius, Octavius, and Herminius possess'd themselves of the Post which the other abandon'd. Then the twenty Youths and the twenty fair Virgins, being put under the power of Lucilius and Telanus, began to march to a place where the Forces of Porsenna that relinquisht the Janiculum made a halt till these Ho∣stages were arriv'd. Horatius separating himself from the Roman Troops, approacht to the Chariot wherein Clelia was; so did Herminius to that of Valeria, Octa∣vius to that of Hermilia, and the other Lovers that follow'd, to the Chariots wherein the persons they lov'd were. But Amilcar follow'd Lucilius and Tela∣nus, and was alwaies near the Chariot of Clelia, where∣in Plotina was. But for that there needed a good time for Porsenna's Forces to break up their Camp, and the Romans to take possession of the Post they deserted, all the Chariots wherein the Virgins were, stay'd in a Meadow at the head of those Troops, who put themselves in Battalia as they descended. In the mean time the fair Virgins discours'd together a∣mongst themselves, or with Amilcar, who sometimes went to one and sometimes to another. They had purpos'd to be negligently enough attir'd, but they were enjoin'd to adorn themselves, to the end they might draw more respect, and be more sitting to be presented to the King of Hetruria, with whom it was not doubted but Galerita and the Princess of the Leon∣tines would be, when they should be presented to him, so that they never seem'd more fair than now. Clelia, Valeria, and Plotina were in the same Chariot; Her∣milia and Colatina in another, every one having fol∣low'd their own inclination. Amilcar being near Cle∣lia, Valeria, and Plotina, told them he had a great ad∣vantage in being an African at this time; for I may now accompany you throughout (said he) whereas, if I were a Roman, I durst not follow you this day, be∣cause the Roman gravity would not permit me to go into the Enemies Camp till matters were compleatly pacifi'd. But since I take special priviledges to my self wherever I am, I go boldly to Porsenna, as if I were an Hostage. In good earnest (answer'd Plotina) you are so more than you imagine; for to speak sin∣cerely, as often as you give your heart to any fair one, 'tis alwaies on condition that she shall restore it to you. Ah! perverse Plotina (cry'd he) if you were as long in Porsenna's hands, as my heart shall be in yours, you would never return to Rome. I assure you, (said she to him) that tho I hope restitution will shortly be made to Porsenna of that little corner of Territory that has been heretofore usurp'd from him, and consequently the Treaty being accom∣plisht, he will soon remit us back to Rome, yet I would not swear your heart should not go out of my power before I go out of that of Porsenna. But however that be (continued she) 'tis not the thing in Question at present, and only tell me, whether you know a man on Horse-back whom I see coming here, who methinks has a very blockish aspect, and is follow'd by five or six others that appear not much wiser. Clelia and Valeria turning their heads on that side, perciev'd it was the infamous Sextus, who led by his own inclination, which alwaies carri'd him where women were, came insolently from his Quarter to see who they were that Lot had chosen out. For tho Tarquin was much discentented with Porsenna, yet he did not manifest it, and forbore to break wholly with him, hoping alwaies something would happen to disturb the Peace. Assoon Clelia and Valeria knew Sextus, they gave a great 〈◊〉〈◊〉, and turn'd away their eies. But Telanus who was in the head of the Forces, whil'st Lucilius gave Orders in other places, encouraged them a little, judging it was not in Sex∣tus's power to attempt any thing against them. Whereupon they took heart a little, and were con∣tented to salute him with a sullen and cold aspect, which made it apparent that if he had not been son of the King, they would not have render'd him that civility. On the other side, Sextus who never con∣sider'd any thing besides his own pleasure, judg'd Clelia so fair at this instant, that his old passion re∣viv'd in his heart for this excellent person. He be∣held her with agitation of mind; and approach∣ing to her Chariot with earnestness, he address'd his speech to Amilcar with the same cheerfulness he could have done at the time when he was in Rome. I con∣fess (said he to Amilcar) I was in an error when here∣tofore I preferr'd brown beauties before the fair, since 'tis certain I never saw nor never shall see any per∣son so beautiful as Clelia. This speech of Sextus minding Clelia and Valeria of the Lamentable death of Lucretia (because it was in maintaining the beauty of that vertuous woman that he had spoken against the fair) they blusht with indignation, and Clelia speak∣ing to him, No, no, my Lord (said she) do not give your self the trouble to commend me, but know there is no surer way to make me displeasing to my self, than to signifie to me that I please you. There∣fore, if you believe me, depart from hence; besides (added she) I conceive 'tis no great pleasure to you to see the Janiculum delivered to the Romans. Your aspect, Madam (reply'd Sextus) makes them that behold it, unmindful of their own felicities. But, my Lord (interrupted Amilcar) I know not whether it be not a new unhappiness to you, to see Clelia according to the present posture of affairs; and therefore, I think it would be good you satisfi'd her desire. Go, my Lord, go (interrupted Valeria, who could not contain her self) go hide your crimes in some place so remote from Rome, that you may never there meet a friend

of Lucretia. But to what place soever you go, remem∣ber there is not a moment wherein a hundred thou∣sand persons do not hate you. I should laugh at their hatred (answer'd he, without being mov'd) were I lov'd but by one person. If you desire to be so by any one (reply'd Valeria) go into some place where you are not known, and where you may change all your inclinations; for if you do not, you will be driven out every where, as you are from Rome: and remember, 'tis the most faithful friend of Lu∣cretia that foretels you this day, you will alwaies be as unfortunate as you are criminal. Since there are pleasures in all places (reply'd he) I make no great reckoning of banishment. Pleasures (said Plotina) are not many to those that are exil'd. Not to such as are covetous and ambitious (answer'd he) but they are to be found every where by those that seek after them, and prefer them above all things. Whilst Sextus was speaking thus, Amilcar made a sign to Te∣lanus of the disgust his presence gave to these fair Vir∣gins; wherefore to deliver them from it, he com∣manded the Chariots to advance; for just about that time also all the forces of the Janiculum were arriv'd. So Telanus causing the Chariots to be drawn into the midst of them, Sextus was constrain'd to return to his own Quarter. But before he parted from Cle∣lia's Chariot, Know (said he to her with unpa∣rallel'd boldness) I lose not the hope to be happy; and having lost Rome for Lucretia, I should be still ready to lose a hundred Kingdomes for you, if I had them. After this, Lucilius coming up to joyn with Telanus, the whole body marcht towards the Quarter of Porsenna. Where when the fair Vir∣gins were arriv'd, Lucilius went to know the King's pleasure concerning presenting them before him. But Porsenna having understood Clelia was amongst them, would not see them, and sent to seek the Prince his son, to the end he might not entertain them, giving order they should be put into tents, serv'd well, and guarded diligently. Nevertheless Aronces who had been advertis'd by Telanus that Clelia was a∣mongst the Hostages, us'd his interest with the Prin∣cess of the Leontines to oblige Galerita to come that day to the Camp; and he caus'd such diligent notice to be given him when the Chariots would arrive, that he was precisely at the place were they made a halt, whilst Lucilius went to receive Porsenna's Orders. He was habited this day more splendidly than ordinary, tho in a military attire. His Horse was of a dapple∣gray, his Feathers were white, Isabella, black, and sky∣colour, he had a scarf of the same colours buckled upon his shoulder with the muzzle of a golden Lyon in∣rich'd with great Diamonds. The guard of his Sword was of the same; and in short, his garb was so mag∣nificent, that he drew the eyes of all. He was al∣so lookt upon very favourably by Clelia, who made it very apparent that the sight of the person lov'd em∣bellishes, at the first appearance after absence; for assoon as Clelia perceiv'd Aronces, her eyes became more sparkling, her complexion had a fuller tincture of carnation, joy augmented the gracefulness of her mouth, and all the charms of her countenance be∣came thereby the more inevitable. Aronces on his part, could not at that moment reflect on all the con∣sequences that might follow upon this interview, but so gave up himself to joy, that alighting from his Horse, he went directly to Clelia, who descended from her Chariot, together with her Companions; and it hapned to be in a place where she could do it conve∣niently, for there was a large and thick-spread tree about ten paces from her Chariot. Ah! Madam (said he to her, after having saluted her and those that follow'd her) is it lawful for me to rejoice to see you in a place where I am not Master? yet you would forbid me in vain to do so, for 'tis impossible for me to see you without resenting a pleasure which I am unable to express. That which I have to see you, my Lord (answer'd she) teaches me sufficiently, that the first sentiments of the heart are not in a peo∣ples disposing according as the condition of their for∣tune requires; for tho I am alwaies very unhappy, yet I am extream joyful that I can also tell you I am alwaies the same, provided you be not changed. Ah! Madam (cry'd Aronces) that which you say is not ob∣liging, and you have too little esteem of me, if you do not repent of it. After this, Clelia told Aronces that Plotina was her sister, and that tho Horatius was her brother, yet was she alwaies his friend: so that there was a very sweet and ingenious conversation among these amiable persons. As they were in it, Lucilius came to bring Porsenna's Orders; but they so strict, that out of friendship he counsel'd the Prince not to oppose them, nor provoke the King. This Order sensibly afflicted Aronces, Clelia, her Companions, and Amilcar, who was come to them; but yet it was necessary to obey it. So Clelia, Valeria, and Plotina re-entered into their Chariot, after Aronces accompani'd by Amilcar had told the admirable per∣son he lov'd, that she ought to fear nothing, and that he would dye rather than be wanting in fidelity to her. Aronces being mounted on Horse-back, and the Chariots beginning to march in order to conduct the fair Virgins to the Tents which were appointed for them, they beheld a Troop of Ladies appear on Horse-back, in very great gallantry, and follow∣ing a stately Chariot that went very slowly, which was the Queen of Hetruria, and with her Melintha, and a very fair and amiable person nam'd Hersilia. She that rid in the head of these Ladies was the Prin∣cess of the Leontines, her Horse being white with a black star in the forehead; her attire was of a flying stuff, silver and blue, and the shape of it very agreea∣ble and advantageous; she wore hanging at a rich scarf that was fastned with a knot of Diamonds, a little Bow of Ebony garnisht with gold, and a Qui∣ver of the same adorn'd with jewels. Her hair curl'd in half rings was carelesly spread upon her shoulders. So that having upon her head a great Plume of Fea∣thers, the colours of which were pleasing and well su∣ted, and the order irregular (as I may so speak) made an agreeable confusion, this Princess never appear'd more beautiful than she did this day. She was fol∣low'd by Aurelisa, Terentia, and Amiclea, and several o∣ther Ladies very handsome and gallantly clothed. Assoon as Aronces beheld this fair Troop, he left Clelia and went to meet the Queen of Hetruria and the Prin∣cess of the Leontines, to the end to desire their prote∣ction of that excellent Virgin. In the mean time the Chariots of the twenty fair Romans, whom Lot had chosen for Hostages, turning to the right hand to∣wards the Tyber, were not so distant but Clelia could discern the magnificent garb of the Princess of the Le∣ontines, and with what a respectful gesture Aronces sa∣luted her; for indeed out of his desire to induce her to protect Clelia, he approacht to her with extraordi∣nary respect. Upon which Clelia having her heart inflam'd with new affection towards Aronces, whom she lately saw, and affected with discontent occa∣sion'd

by the rigorous order of Porsenna, her mind be∣came so troubled, that she could not hinder her self from giving some signs of her inquietude. She chang'd colour several times, she had her head alwayes turn'd toward the side where the Princess of the Leontines was, as long as she was in sight, and moreover she sigh'd very heavily. But that which compleated her anxiety, was, that putting forth her head; she heard one of those that guarded her, saying to an∣other as they beheld Aronces, See, our Prince there is much taken up with his new Mistress. These words were no sooner understood by Clelia, but jeal∣ousie as suddenly seiz'd upon her heart, as an hour be∣fore Love did upon that of Sextus. But whilst this secret trouble was exciting in her breast, Plotina and Valeria were reasoning concerning Porsenna's Order. Nevertheless the change hapned in Clelia's fair eyes did not escape their observation; whereupon Valeria addressing to this admirable person, Whence arises this new sadness? (said she) and what thought has come in your minde? Tho Porsena's Order be some∣thing severe, yet we are delivered from an unpleasing ceremony, in that we shall not be presented to him. Therefore since I believe he dares not violate the Law of Nations, nor treat you ill, I see no cause for the excessive melancholy that appears in your eyes. For my part (said Plotina) I am of Valeria's mind; and therefore let me intreat you, my dear sister, not to abandon your self to sadness. When the heart is pos∣sess'd with jealousie (answer'd she blushing) it is not possible but that it should also be abandon'd to sad∣ness. But how can you become jealous in so short a time? (said Plotina). Clelia seeing her self urg'd by her friends, told them what she heard, and what she observ'd. But do you not know (said Valeria) Aronces suffers it to be believ'd that he is amorous of the Prin∣cess of the Leontines to the end Porsenna might not pro∣pound to him the marriage of the Prince of Ceres daugh∣ter? I know it (answer'd Clelia) but I know too that the Princess of the Leontines, is infinitely charming, that I am unfortunat, and that it is not impossible but that Aronces conceiving he cannot marry me, has suffer'd his heart to be toucht with the beauty of that Prin∣cess; for, for my own part, I find that were I a man, I could not chuse but love her. Ah! my dear sister (cry'd Plotina) you think you should love this Prin∣cess if you were a man, only because you have at pre∣sent a great disposition not to love her. That is, in brief, the jealousie which will cause you to hate her, makes her appear more lovely than really she is, tho she is so in a high degree. But however, you are un∣just; for after all Aronces has done for you, you sus∣pect him upon too light an occasion. No, no, (re∣ply'd Valeria) blame not Clelia so much; for when a person loves ardently and is unfortunate, it is very easie for jealousie to arise without cause; and cer∣tainly only such as know not how to love, are wholly free from jealousie. These fair Virgins spoke many things more to this purpose, till they arriv'd at the Tents prepar'd for them, where they were receiv'd with magnificence and respect. Lucilius and Telan∣us caus'd them to be attended with all imaginable care, and omitted nothing that might serve to evi∣dence themselves the most honorable persons in the World. Nevertheless at the same time, not daring to disobey Porsenna's Order, they caus'd them to be guarded diligently. This King (imagining there had been some deceit in the choice of the Hostages, and that Clelia was purposely sent to his Camp out of hope to mollifie him, and to augment Aronces's love by her presence) was much displeas'd about it, both a∣gainst the Romans and against Aronces, whom he sus∣pected to have had some influence in the business. Yet seeing him arrive with the Princess of the Leon∣tines, he knew not what to think of it. But Galerita and the Princess being much solicitous to serve Aron∣ces, assoon as they came to Porsenna's presence, they declar'd the joy they resented in seeing the peace so well advanc'd, and askt him wherefore he did not see the Hostages. Because (answer'd he) the person is sent amongst them who of all the world undoubtedly hates me most. And therefore (added he, looking upon A∣ronces) I absolutely forbid you to see her, or have any correspondence with her. My Lord (said the dejected Prince) the order you have given for the guarding of the fair Romans, is so strict, that it will be no merit to obey you; but if it be lawfull for me to an∣swer something that is contrary to your sentiments, I shall beseech you to consider that nothing ought to be more sacred than the persons of Hostages. I grant it (reply'd Porsenna) and 'tis to that end that I require they be diligently guarded. Aronces judging then that Galerita and the Princess of the Leontines would doe him more service if himself were not present than if he were, he withdrew, and left them in effect the liber∣ty to protect himself in protecting Clelia. Yet they durst not speak to Porsenna concerning that admirable Lady in particular, but only of her and all her Com∣panions in general. At first the King of Hetruria would not allow that any persons should see them: but the two Princesses so earnestly represented to him that that would cause an ill rumor in Rome, as if they were kept Prisoners, that he yeilded to their Counsel, being contented only to prohibit the Prince his son the liberty of seeing them; but he granted the Princesses permission to goe and visit them. In the mean time the Prince Titus who alwayes lov'd Colatina passion∣ately, went from Tarquin's Quarter to that of Por∣senna, to endeavour to get liberty to see her; Sextus who was become violently amorous of Clelia, went thither too with the same purpose: and the fierce Tul∣lia, whose mind was alwayes bent to doe mischief to some or other, and to make all things subservient to her revenge, or ambition, devis'd in her mind (so fertile in inventions of wickedness) what she should doe to hinder the accomplishment of the peace, or at least to torment Clelia. Tarquin for his part, in the midest of his misfortunes had his thoughts imploy'd upon Clelia, and was something pleas'd, to hear Aronces was deny'd liberty to visit her. The day after the fair Romans came to Porsenna's Camp, the Queen of Hetruria and the Princess of the Leon∣tines went to see them; but by the way they met with Sextus, and could not hinder him from accompanying them, tho they urg'd him as much as they could to forbear. As for the Prince Titus, he was so belov'd by both parties, that they did not scruple to take him into this visit; and the curiosity to see these twenty fair Romans being almost general, the Princesses were accompany'd by the generous Melintha, the amiable Hersilia, Amiclea, Aurelisa, Terentia, and several men of Quality. The Roman Ladies having been ad∣vertis'd by Lucilius and Telanus of the visit they were to receive, they adorned themselves more speedily this day; and Clelia out of a jealous conceit, and to please the Queen of Hetruria, omitted nothing that conduc'd to make her appear amiable. Only Hermilia was in a negligent dress, which testifi'd she

did not care to please: yet being fair, young, and tall, she did not cease to be very graceful. It may be said, there was never a more glorious sight, than when these twenty fair Virgins went to receive the Queen of Hetruria at the entry of their Tents. For the Lot had so happily chosen them out, that there was not one of them but was extremely handsome and agree∣able. Valeria, Clelia, and Plotina being in the front of this fair Company, the first as being daughter of the first Consul spoke thus in the name of all her Companions, when she saluted Galerita. Had my Companions and my self had liberty to doe our duty, Madam (said she very gracefully) we should have had the honour to have gone and saluted your Ma∣jesty assoon as we saw you arrive in the Camp: But, Madam, since we are not in our own power, no doubt you are so equitable as not to accuse us of being deficient in the respect we owe you. The Queen of Hetruria very civilly receiv'd that which Valeria spoke to her, and also made an answer to it; but it was almost without thinking what she was doing; for the Princess of the Leontines hav∣ing before caus'd her to take notice of Clelia, she be∣held her with so great admiration that she could not refrain from giving advantageous signs of what she thought of her. Assoon as she had done answer∣ing Valeria, she turned her self towards the Prin∣cess of the Leontines, and speaking to her, Report is injurious to Clelia's beauty (said she) for certainly it transcends all the praises that are publish'd of it, and I believe it can never be sufficiently extoll'd. Galerita had scarce spoke this, but all that accom∣pani'd her, perceiving it was free for them to speak what they thought, commended Clelia so highly, that she blusht at it; whereby modesty imbellish∣ing her more, she confirm'd all the applauses that were given her. After which Galerita, having com∣mended all these fair Virgins in general, separated Clelia from the rest, and talkt with her for some time, whilst the Princess of the Leontines, Melintha Hersilia, and the other Ladies were speaking to Val∣eria, Plotina, and their companions. As for Prince Titus, he entertain'd Colatina, whom he had not seen since his leaving Rome; but Sextus was wholly silent, and only beheld Clelia so attentively, that it was easie to perceive that he had not lov'd the unfortu∣nate Lucretia more ardently. Amilcar, who had fol∣low'd the Queen of Hetruria, joyn'd in the discourse with the Princess of the Leontines and Plotina; Tela∣nus did the like; Aurelisa and Terentia admir'd these fair Romans; and Valeria and her companions re∣turning them commendations for those they gave, this first conversation pass'd in reciprocal civilities. But Clelia spoke so handsomely to Galerita, that she was as much charm'd with her wit, as her beauty; yet she would not mention any thing to her concern∣ing Aronces, but assur'd her in general, she would protect her in all things, and omit no opportunity to doe her good offices. After which turning her self towards the other Romane Ladies, the Princess of the Leontines approacht to Clelia, with intention to as∣sure her she would serve her with all her heart, and give her an account of the sentiments Aronces had for her. But Sextus coming to her at the same moment, it was impossible for her to execute her purpose; be∣sides, that Clelia appear'd to her with so cold an as∣pect, that this did sufficiently amuse her. Nevertheless, soon after she thought Sextus's presence caus'd that coldness of hers, so that hoping to see her often, she was not very earnest to discourse with her apart. On the contrary believing she should doe her a pleasure in taking off Sextus, she pretended to have something to say to this Prince, and accordingly whisper'd a lit∣tle to him; but presently after, the Queen of Hetru∣ria being retir'd, she could doe no more but tell Clelia, she would see her again speedily. Notwith∣standing she spoke this with a very obliging air, yet the secret jealousie this fair Virgin had in her breast caus'd her to answer her with some coldness, tho with sufficient civility. The Queen of Hetruria as she return'd spoke of nothing but the beauty of Cle∣lia, and the charms of her mind. Sextus seem'd so transported with it, that he could not refrain from speaking things which made it apparent he was deeply enamour'd of her; and all that accompani'd Galerita were so taken with her, that they contend∣ed who should extol her most. Her companions were also much Commended, and tho fair Ladies love not very much to applaud those that own that advantageous quality, yet Aurelisa, Terentia, and all the rest acknowledg'd nothing could be seen so handsome as Clelia; and that next her, Valeria, Plo∣tina, Hermilia, and Colatina were the most charm∣ing persons in the world. When Galerita arriv'd at her Tent, she understood that the cruel Tullia was in private conference with Porsenna, and she was told of it by Aronces, who was extremely troubled at it. And so was she too; for she knew well of what dangerous artifices this person was capable. But to comfort him, she talk'd with him so ad∣vantageously of Clelia, that it gave him satisfaction in some measure. You have reason Aronces (said Galerita to him) to prefer Clelia above all the rest of the world; for being noble, vertuous, ingenious, and the greatest beauty that ever liv'd, and having an affection for you, I conceive nothing is to be desir'd for your happiness but the consent of Porsenna. Ah! Madam (cry'd Aronces) that consent is hard to be obtain'd. I confess it (answer'd the Queen) but nevertheless I am perswaded, if the King saw Clelia, it would be more easie to prevail with him; and I purpose to continue some dayes in the Camp, that I may endeavour to bring him to resolve upon it. A∣ronces thanked Galerita for this design of hers, and afterwards requested the Princess of the Leontines, to assist her in moving Porsenna to see Clelia. As he left the Queen, he saw his Father the King, who seem'd to be sufficiently pensive; he understood by some of the Officers that were faithful to him, that when Tullia departed from Porsenna, he told her, he would keep his word, provided she kept hers; and that this Princess went away with an aspect suf∣ficiently satisfi'd. But the unfortunate Aronces not being able to see Clelia, writ to her in the most passionate manner in the world, and oblig'd Titus, Telanus, and Amilcar to tell her a hundred things e∣very day in his name. At the same time, liberty of intercourse between Rome and the Camp being ra∣tifi'd, excepting for such Romans as had follow'd Tarquin, the Princess of the Leontines went to see the Prince her Brother, who was a little recover'd; and Herminius, Horatius, Octavius, Aemilius, Zenocrates, An∣acreon, and many others caus'd themselves to be pre∣sented to Porsenna, to the end they might have liber∣ty to visit the twenty fair Virgins that were given as Hostages. By this means the conversation became very delightful both at the Tents of the Queen of Hetruria, the Princess of the Leontines, and those in which the

fair Romans were. As for Mutius, his mind was so incensed with the last conversation he had with Va∣leria, that he would not go thither; and he was ob∣serv'd to avoid almost all the world, and to be discontented and pensive, tho the glory he had ac∣quir'd ought to have afforded him very great satisfa∣ction. About this time the Prince of Messene found himself reduc'd to extremity; but at his death he caus'd Themistus to be advertis'd that he might go and receive the recompence of his fidelity, and that some daies before he had stopt a man that had order to deliver a Letter to him from the Prince of Syracusa, and another from the Princess Lindami∣ra, which inform'd him that he might return. And accordingly Themistus understanding this agreeable news, and seeing the War ended, ••itted himself to depart assoon as the wound in his arm should be cur∣ed. The Prince of Messene's death, and the happi∣ness of his Rival, serving then for discourse to all the world, it hapned that Clelia and Plotina observing Zenocrates very melancholy, the latter askt him if he had any particular interest in that adventure. Alass! Madam (answer'd he, sighing) I am concern'd onely with my own miseries, of which both the felicity and misfortunes of others do alike reduce the remem∣brance in my mind. Yet some troublesome thing must needs have befallen you within this little while (said Clelia) for the bare remembrance of re∣mote unhappinesses does not produce the melancho∣ly which I perceive in your eies. 'Tis easie to appear sad (reply'd Zenocrates) when greater are apprehend∣ed to come. But Valeria interrupting this discourse by speaking something apart to Clelia, Plotina conti∣nu'd, and so urg'd Zenocrates to tell her the cause of his discontent, that he confest to her he was extreme∣ly jealous, but would not discover to her who was the person he lov'd. After which Plotina told Clelia what Zenocrates had confest to her. An hour after the Princess of the Leontines being arriv'd, Clelia heard Amiclea say to Zenocrates, as she pass'd by him, You are to blame, and more than you can imagine. She also observ'd that the Princess of the Leontines blusht as she lookt upon Zenocrates, and that Zeno∣crates's dejectedness increas'd by beholding the Prin∣cess. So that comparing all these circumstances, she conjectur'd that Zenocrates lov'd the Princess, and that Aronces was the cause of his jealousie. Which thought so augmented her own, that she was forc'd to pretend her self a little indispos'd, for fear lest the alteration of her humour should be taken notice of. Nevertheless she had so great curiosity to know per∣fectly the Adventures of the Princess of the Leontines, that she requested Plotina and Valeria to ingage her to relate them; and these two fair Ladies acted with such address, after Zenocrates was gone, that they pre∣vail'd with her to grant that which Clelia desir'd. That which you request of me (said this charming Princess to them) is harder to grant you than you ima∣gine; but I cannot refuse a thing that is possible, to three such amiable persons as you; moreover, to speak freely, I foresee that within a few daies, that will be known which I have hitherto so carefully con∣ceal'd. However (added she) Amiclea must relate to you what you desire to know; for I confess to you that I should not be able to tell you divers things, the bare remembrance of which makes me blush, tho they be not criminal. Clelia, Valeria, and Plotina, having consented to what she desir'd, she went away, and left Amiclea with these three fair Virgins, who being alone in their Tent, beseech'd her to give them a full Relation of all that concern'd the Princess of the Leontines And thereupon according to the order she had receiv'd from her, she began to speak in this man∣ner.

The HISTORY of the Princess LYSIMENA.

IF you did not know the Princess of the Leontines, I should begin her History with her Elogium, thereby to interess you in her misfortunes; but since you are not ignorant that she is very beautiful and ve∣ry amiable, that she is a person of extroardinary wit and merit, and that nevertheless her vertue surpasses all her charms; I it remains only that I acquaint you with her infelicities, to the end to excite your com∣passion to her, and to relate her Adventures to you, thereby to encrease your admiration of her. I will not take much pains to describe to you how the Court of Leontium stood when we were there; I shall onely tell you by the way, that there was none more delightful in all Sicily, tho (as you know) there be a great number there, and it be at this day one of the places most fam'd for splendor and politeness in the world. The Country being very handsome and fer∣tile, the air agreeable, and liberty sufficient, it is un∣doubtedly extreme pleasant living there. But it must be confess'd, that during the first years of the Princess Lysimena's life, the Court of Leontium was more de∣lightful than it can be at this day. For when the prin∣cipal Persons of a Court have well-temper'd minds, their example renders all their inferiors more civi∣lis'd and vertuous. The late Prince of Leontium was certainly a very accomplisht Prince; and the Princess of Leontium, his wife, was indu'd with all the Qualities that can cause a Person of Honour to be admir'd. More∣over, it may be assur'd that the Princess Lysimena re∣sembles her as much, as Artemidorus does the late Prince, his Father. He that reigns at this day, has unquestionably some Qualities that ought to be com∣mended; for he is indu'd with wit and courage: but he is naturally distrustful, excessively jealous of his Au∣thority, when he need not, and besides has some incli∣nations to cruelty. But to return to the Princess Lysime∣na, you shall know, that she from her infancy was very amiable, & that at twelve years old she was the great∣est ornament of the Court. It was believ'd at that time, that she had but one Brother; for you must know, Arte∣midorus at the age of ten years was taken by Pyrates, as the Prince of the Leontium sent him to Greece under the conduct of a wife Governor called Cleanthus, to be brought up there till he should come to the age of eighteen years; after which no tidings had been heard of him. So that when the Prince his Father dy'd, Lysi∣mena remain'd under the Authority of the Prince of Leontium her Brother, who Reigns at this day. Whilst' the Princess her mother was alive, she was not with∣out some consolation; besides, being then but six∣teen years old, grief more easily wore out of her mind, and she became capable of all the joy that can be found in a splendid Court by a Person that holds the chief rank there in all things, and sees her self as much superior to all about her both in beauty, wit, and Quality. The Princess Lysimena has always had the advantage to be free from one of those defects which are sufficiently common in those of her rank; for she had never any of that intolerable pride, through which such as are possess'd with it, think they do too much honour to those that serve them,

when they only take notice of the respect they bear to them; who despise all that are not of a very con∣siderable rank; who are not oblig'd by any thing whatsoever, who will be lov'd without loving again; who scorn gratitude, who will be yielded to in every thing, who understand nothing of liberality, and who have not so much as the art to chuse their own pleasures well. On the contrary, I can assure you she has alwaies very well known how to discern the truth of all things, she has lov'd those that lov'd her person more than such as respected her condition, and has been as diligent to render her self worthy to be lov'd, as if her birth and beauty had afforded her no advantage. And to speak truth, the diligence she has us'd has admirably succeeded. I was some years elder than the Princess; but she attaining to an early prudence, lov'd rather to converse with such as ex∣ceeded her in age, than such as were younger: so that my mother being very much belov'd by the late Princess of Leontium, I went frequently to the Pa∣lace, where I had the good fortune to be chosen a∣mongst a hundred more amiable Virgins than my self, to be the Princess favourite. At that time a very near Kinsman of the Prince of Syracusa who dwelt at Leontium, became extreme amorous of Lysimena; his name was Meleontus, and he a is person of undoubted courage, wit, and magnificence; but he is naturally distrustful: and tho he be very noble, yet he is so lit∣tle master of himself when he is in choler that he is at such times capable of many things which he would not have done when his choler is pass'd. Moreo∣ver, Meleontus is a very goodly Person, and has a kind of noble boldness in the air of his countenance, which sutes both with his Quality and humour. Being u∣sually a partaker in all the pleasures of the Prince, he had the freedome to see the Princess Lysimena, very of∣ten. Whereby it is to be wondred, if seeing a most a∣miable person every day, he could not hinder himself from loving her. Besides, to speak truth, it was so much the mode to love Lysimena, that it was said at Court, She had not one slave that was not amorous of her. It was discover'd that a Painter, as he drew her Picture, became her Lover; and one of the Gar∣deners of the Palace, to whom she had spoken very often (because she much delights in flowers) lost his reason through the excess of love he had for her. Moreover, it was for this cause that she was styl'd so as she is at this day; for a certain person saying one day pleasantly, that to distinguish her from the Princess her Mother, who was call'd the Princess of Leontium, she ought to be term'd the Princess of the Leontines, since she reign'd in the hearts of all the Prince her Brothers Subjects; the conceit was taken up, and she came by degrees to be generally styl'd so. Nevertheless, this universal love caus'd her to be hat∣ed and envy'd by several beauties: Clidamira who you know, was certainly a little envious at her, but amongst others there was a woman of Quality, that thought her self more beautiful than Lysimena, who proceeded so far to wish her as much mischief as if the Princess had undone her in her fortune, tho she was guilty of no other crime but being as amiable as you see. This woman, who is call'd Amerintha, is in∣deed very fair, and has no common temper of mind, as you shall know in the sequel of my discourse. Me∣leontus having been her servant for some time, and afterwards forsaking her to adore Lysimena, she there∣upon began to hate the Princess (as I told you) al∣tho she dissembled it as much as she could. In the mean time Meleontus omitted nothing which he jugd'd might serve to make his passion known to Lysimena, who had no inclination at all towards him. But because the Prince her Brother did not disapprove this affection, she durst not treat him un∣kindly: but her particular humor was so averse from all Courtship, that upon all occasions she commend∣ed Friendship above Love, maintaining that there is nothing more delightful than to have Friends, and nothing more troublesome than to have Lovers, whe∣ther they be lov'd again or no. And accordingly she was very severe to the former, and very gentle at the latter. Zenocrates was at this time at Leontium, where having been very amorous of an amiable La∣dy nam'd Andromira, his love at length turn'd into friendship. Which, besides, was a friendship with∣out ardour, and not much pleasing; so that he said sometimes laughing, That there is far more pleasure in having a Friend of a Lady that had alwaies been a Friend, than in having one that had been considered as a Mistress, and is no longer lookt upon but as a Friend. Andromira being a little related to me, I frequently reproacht Zenocrates with his change, and this is no unusual subject of our conversation. If you did not know him, I should tell you of the goodliness of his personage, the vivacity of his wit, and all the good qualities he is indu'd with; but it will be sufficient to let you know that he is of a very noble ex∣traction, that he is Originally a Greek tho he was born at a City call'd Herbesa, which was his Father's, and is not far from Leontium; I shall add further, that he was at that time of great esteem in this Court. That which hapned between him and An∣dromira being a very rare case, all the world talk'd of it, and Lysimena making advantage of it in reference to her own sentiments, said, it was easie to perceive thereby the expedience of returning to Friendship. For my part (said I to her one day in the presence of Meleontus and Zenocrates) I do not conceive how any one is capable of Friendship towards another that has been lov'd; for if I had once had an affection for a man, I think I could not desist from it without hating him, or at least without having an indifference for him, which could never become Friendship. I am of Amiclea's mind (said Meleontus) and I do not think it possible for me ever to be a Friend to my Mistress. For my part (said Lysimena) Friendship is so high in my esteem, that I account it good at all times. But how is it possible (said Meleontus) for Love to become Friendship? What becomes of the desires, impatiencies, melancholies, fears, transports, little and great pleasures, suspitions, hope, jealousie, and all the other passions that are inseparable from Love? In truth (said Zenocrates) I cannot tell you what is become of all these, but I know at present I have the greatest tranquillity of the world in refe∣rence to Andromira, and that she cannot give me ei∣ther great trouble or great pleasure. I behold her without desires or without hopes, I should serve her if it were in my power, I esteem her, I love her, and I visit her also very often: but for the most part, our conversation is but luke-warm, and our Friend∣ship has nothing in it that affords much inquietude or great delight. But did you ever love that per∣son? (said Meleontus). More than you can imagine (answer'd Zenocrates). I can witness (reply'd I) that he has made very amorous Verses upon her, and I have seen him inquieted, jealous, and much solici∣tous concerning her. But that which I admire

most (said Lysimena) is, that Andromira should be cap∣able of returning to Friendship as well as he. Ah! Madam (said Meleontus) Zenocrates must needs have lov'd but weakly when he was amorous, since he could become a Friend of a Lover; however, I am well assur'd (said he with a lower voice) I finde I shall never have any Friendship for the admirable Ly∣simena. That which you speak is so disobliging to me (answer'd the Princess) that you deserve I should give you a sharp answer. That which I said is so true and so passionate, Madam (reply'd he) that I cannot believe it possible for you to be so unjust as to hate me for it. After this other Ladies being arriv'd, the discourse was changed. Nevertheless, from that day Meleontus became more confident to speak to Lysimena concerning his Love, altho she always forbid him, and Zenocrates became so intimate a friend to her, that no man in the Court was so high in her favour, nor had so much liberty to see her. For Zenocrates had in a short time got such a reputation of being inconstant, that not fearing he would be∣come her Lover, she was joyful that he was her Friend. We oftentimes reproacht him that he had only the beginnings of love; and he was so expert at raillery thereupon, that it render'd our conversation very delightful. Meleontus's love in the mean time augmented to the highest degree he was capable of, he being a person more inclin'd to this passion than to Friendship. These two persons were often toge∣ther, and seem'd to be considerably intimate, tho indeed they communicated nothing of importance one to another; for Zenocrates loves not to declare his secrets, and Meleontus is so distrustful, that he car'd not to put confidence in him, especially in what con∣cern'd Lysimena. 'Tis true, he had no great secrets to tell of in this respect, for tho he had the most vio∣lent passion for the Princess, that ever was, yet she answer'd it so little, that she afforded him no great matter for secrecie. Nevertheless, he was not dis∣courag'd; for tho the Princess of Leontium did not much approve his pretensions to the Princess her daughter, yet the Prince her Son so upheld him in them, that he was not destitute of hope. In the mean time there were made continual feasts, at which Zenocrates was always present as Lysimena's friend. This Quality was no doubt very advantageous to him and gave him many occasions of conversing with her, which otherwise he could not have had, if his incon∣stancie had not secur'd him from being apprehended by Lysimena as a man that was amorous of her. So that by degrees she came to have a very dear friend∣ship for Zenocrates; who one the other side lov'd her no doubt as much as he could, and often told her, that he lov'd her more than four of his Mistres∣sess. Thus Lysimena taking much delight in the amity of such an agreeable Friend, and (if I dare say it) in mine, dayly confirm'd her self in the opinion she then had, That Love is less sweet than Friend∣ship. Zenocrates in the mean time was better treated as her Friend, than Meleontus was as her Lover. An∣dromira was sometimes present in their conversations, and one day the Princess ask'd her, whether Zenocrates were a more agreeable Friend than a Lover. In truth, Madam (answer'd Andromira, smiling) I cannot well resolve your Question; all that I can tell you, is, that when our affection was a little more ten∣der than friendship, we had more pain and more pleasure; but at this day when it has chang'd its nature, we doe not divert our selves much in our familiarity. That answer of Andromira, to Lysimena seem'd to her so remarkable, that being alone the next day in her Closet, she made a description of that person's sentiments, she painted her out to the life, and did me the favour to shew me what she writ up∣on this subject, which was extremely pleasant. For without pencil or colours, she made so exact a pic∣ture of Andromira, that none could but know it. At first the Princess would have conceal'd this Portrai∣ture; but telling Zenocrates of it, and Zenocrates not being able to hide a thing made for the honour of the Princess's wit, told it to the Prince, the Prince to Meleontus, and Meleontus to the whole Court. Upon which, as all the world is full of imitators, good or bad, in a few dayes all the men of the Court became Painters, and all the women made their own Pourt∣raits, without considering that it is very difficult to speak handsomely of ones self: for if a person set forth his own commendations, he becomes ridiculous and insufferable; if he blame himself justly, he would doe better to amend his faults than publish them; and it he speak neither good nor ill of himself he is sufficient∣ly tedious.

But in brief, a Constellation stronger than Reason put all the World into this vein. The most excus∣able were such as overcommended themselves, for they delineated themselves according to their self-conceit; and the most faulty were such as made Satyrical Pourtraitures against persons whose good∣ness and vertue ought to have exempted them from envy. Tho indeed the Authors injur'd themselves, by describing themselves amongst all the worthy per∣sons, and did no hurt to those they intended to injure. Upon this occasion all discourses were only concern∣ing Pourtraitures, every one had some in their Pock∣ets, and the end of the Composers was only to give Copies from one to another. One day, amongst an honourable Company, at the Palace of the Princess of Leontium where Lysimena was at that time, arose a discourse concerning the Portraitures in fashion. For my part (said Meleontus) I like not this ardency of do∣ing that always which others doe, and that because some one person has made a handsome Portrait, there∣fore all the world should betake themselves to make bad. In truth (added I) I believe there is not a person at Leontium that has a Looking glass, but has made their own picture, excepting my self who could never resolve to speak either good or ill in my own behalf. After this, Lysimena ask'd if there were any new Portraiture, and Zenocrates told her two were made of the same person by no ordinary inven∣tion; which the Princess desiring to see, Zenocrates who had them, gave them to her to read, telling her, the first of them seem'd to be made by some Lover or some friend of Amerintha. I easily believe (answer'd Lysi∣mena) it might be made by a Lover, but as for a Friend, I doubt it: for Amerintha loves not to have Friends, and I am perswaded few people have many, against their own wills. After this Lysimena began to read that which follows.

The Portraiture of AMERINTHA.

AMerintha is of a tall and handsome stature, of a good aspect, and has all the lustre of a great Beauty: her eyes are sparkling and sweet, they excite love, fear, and hope all at the same time. They are the fairest azure in the World,

and her hair is of the most goodly flaxen that e∣ver was seen. She has a little mouth, ruddy and smiling, and a thousand charms in the air of her countenance. Her complexion is clear even to ad∣miration, and she has such an agreeable mind, in which sweetness and confidence, modesty and gal∣lantry, chearfulness and sometimes pensiveness appear together. She is obliging and civil, she speaks well, she has a good grace, she pleases all that see her; and whoever is not in love the first time he sees her, is incapable of ever being so. Her heart is resolute enough to undertake difficult things without scruple, nothing perplexes or a∣stonishes her; she trusts always either to her beau∣ty or to her address. And indeed she has reason to conside in them, since to this hour she has al∣most alwayes done whatever she desired to do, no∣thing being able to resist her; and I believe she will perpetually do her own pleasure.

It must be confess'd (said Lysimena, after she had done reading) that Amerintha has all that this Portraiture attributes to her. I acknowledge it (answer'd Meleontus) but she has some things that are not express'd in it. Nevertheless (added I) there is none but would know her by this description. If it be so (said Zenocrates) you will not judge the other Portrait made of her to be very like. There are Pictures sometimes (answer'd Lysimena) that doe not resemble one another, and yet are very like the persons for whom they were made: but to judge whether this be so, let us see it. After which she began to read the Second.

Portraiture of AMERINTHA.

AMerintha is a Person (you think perhaps I am going to say Wonderful, but it is more just to say) Incomprehensible; and no doubt you will agree with me by that time I have made her Picture. Her beauty is gay, her Complexion pale, her Eyes sufficiently terrible, and her words pass through one of the handsomest mouths in the World. Her Hair is fair, and the air of her whole Person noble enough; but her Hands are not made to catch Hearts, for they are so deform'd, that she alwaies hides them in a corner of a great veil she wears, for fear she should shew them ei∣ther to her Lovers or her self. Nor are her Arms more handsome; her neck too is sufficiently ill shap'd: and for my part, I confess my imagina∣tion perswades me that all which I do not see, more resembles that which displeases me than that which seems agreeable to me. But which is strange, that which is handsome in this Person serves only to injure her; since she does not at∣tract Lovers but to make her self enemies; and it may be said she never causes her self to be lov'd, but the better to render her self hated. For they that do not love her, admire her more than they that do, because as soon as any one had had time enough to know her, he finds that she loves none but her self, that her heart is full of dissimulati∣on, and that she uses a certain false goodness on∣ly the better to deceive such as she desires to de∣stroy, that her Wit only serves her to frame in∣trigues, and to perplex all those she calls friends; that her confidence is seldome employ'd but to per∣forme actions worthy to be repented of; that she does Civilities to none but those from whom she knows she shall receive greater; that she imployes craft in all things, and understands not true Prudence. She is expert enough in disguising truth, tho on some occasions she has been liable to conviction of falshood; she loves liberality in a∣nother, and never practises it; she would have it believ'd that she knows how to love, tho she never lov'd any. In the mean time she does many things which nothing but love seems to be able to cause them to do whomit absolutely possesseth. But lastly, the greatest truth that can be said of her, is, that no other Person ever excited so much love and hatred, or attracted so many praises and re∣proaches: and that which troubles her most of all, is, that all Persons begin with admiration, and alwaies end with contempt.

Ah! Zenocrates (said Lysimena) if there were any stranger here, I would say this does not much resem∣ble Amerintha; but since I conceive none can contra∣dict what is here said of her, I must acknowledge this second Portraiture resembles Amerintha as much as the first; for tho one extols her, and the other blames her, yet both are like her. The first would seem admir∣ably well made to a man that had seen her but eight dayes; and the latter to those that have lov'd her a long time. He that made this Picture (answer'd Zenocrates) calls these Pourtraits, two-fac'd Pour∣traits; because in the one he speaks all the good, and in the other all the evil. This malitious invention has no doubt some wit in it (reply'd Lysimena) but for that it may prejudice virtuous persons, I will not commend it. Not but that Amerintha deserves her picture should be made in such manner, that it may please every one; but however, 'tis better to conceal the defects of others, than to discover them, altho it be never so ingeniously done. That which you say, is very generous, Madam (answer'd I) but a∣bove all things it behoves not to reproach any person for want of Beauty, or for bad fortune, unless peo∣ple desire to be accounted malitious or scurrilous; and if it be lawful to speak disadvantageous truths, it ought to be against such as are wicked, back-biters, slander∣ers, cheaters, envious at others glory; because some∣times well drawing the Character of a bad man, vice may be render'd odious. But withall, these descriptions ought to be general, and not to point at any one in par∣ticular, unless it be necessary to make perfidious per∣sons known, for fear they deceive such as are not so. For as in certain places of great Rivers, Marks are set up, to advertise such as pass that way, of Rocks hid under the water, which might occasion Ship wrack; so some∣times dangerous persons may be made known, to the end the virtuous may more easily avoid them. That which you say is extreme reasonable (reply'd Zenocra∣tes) and whereas so many unprofitable Pourtraitures are made, I wish some were compos'd that might be of good use. I would have an envious man painted forth, that so envy might be hated; a detractor, to the end to cause detraction to be detested; a deceiver,

that perfidiousness might be render'd odious; and in like manner many other evil qualities. But as for an inconstant person (interrupted Lysimena smiling) you say nothing of him. Tho I am perhaps less such than I am taken to be (answer'd he) yet I shall not at pre∣sent offer to say I am not such at all; but only, that for the most part inconstant persons are rather rec∣kon'd amongst the giddy-brain'd, than the wicked; and for that reason I did not think to mention them in this occasion. But as for Amerintha's two-fac'd Portrait, it was compos'd by one that desires not to make a secret of it; all the Court has seen it, and many have since attempted the like. Nevertheless, the Princess so openly profest her self an Enemy to all that made such kinde of things, that in a very few dayes none dar'd to write in that manner; and this is a great instance, that 'tis extremely important for persons of the principal rank in Courts never to ap∣prove of those that wound the reputation of others. And it concerns them sufficiently; for, by not permit∣ting the glory of their inferiors to be blemisht, they preserve their own, and place a Bar between ca∣lumny and themselves. Yet this discourse of Lysi∣mena did not hinder but that Amerintha understand∣ing by Andromira (who told her of it unwittingly) that her Portraiture had been read in the Princesses lodgings, was extremely inrag'd at it, and design'd to doe her some mischief, tho in truth she had no cause to complain of Lysimena. But dissimulation being ne∣cessary to all such as would doe an injury, she made no shew of any disgust at all; but contrarily she visit∣ed Lysimena more frequently, she sought my friend∣ship and absolutely gain'd that of a Virgin who at that time belong'd to the Princess of the Leontines. In the mean time Meleontus was infinitly amorous of Lysimena, and Zenocrates thinking himself her friend; was her Lo∣ver; tho indeed he shortly perceiv'd that he deceiv'd himself. As for the Princess, she thought nothing of it, and was so pleas'd with his friendship, that she boast∣ed of it to all the World. But as one day she was speaking of it to him, he found himself sufficiently perplex'd. For you must know, Zenocrates having deserted all his Mistresses for some time before, seem'd to have nothing else to doe, but to render his de∣voirs to Lysimena. Upon which the Princess not de∣siring that her friendship should restrain him; told him one day pleasantly, that she in no manner pre∣tended to ingross him, and tho she sometimes jested with him about his inconstancie, yet she would not hinder him from having some of those half Mistresses, who without possessing his whole heart, might af∣ford him divertisement, and occasion him to write pleasant Letters, and delightful Verses. Zenocrates blusht at this speech of Lysimena, and was much puzzl∣ed how to answer to it. For according to the thoughts he then had, he lookt upon the permission the Princess gave him, as the most cruel in the World. Yet he durst not give her any sign of his passion, of which he saw well she had not the least suspition; nor was he willing to speak any thing that altogether oppos'd her Counsel. But answering ambiguously to that which she said to him, The Friendship where∣with you honour me, Madam (said he to her) must needs be very weak, since instead of correcting my faults, you advise me to abandon my self to them. You have a hundred times reproacht me for my be∣ginnings of Love, but I see now you would have me have three or four Mistresses at once? Is it, Madam (ad¦ded he) because my frequent converse is distasteful to you? In no wise (answer'd she smiling) but 'tis only because I have an extreme fear lest Friendship should become fastidious to you. As Zenocrates was going to reply, Meleontus enter'd; whereupon not being able to hide his discomposedness of mind, he withdrew sufficiently pensive. Meleontus had opportunity so seldome to speak to the Princess apart, that he would not lose this; and assoon as Zenocrates was gone forth, he began to speak to her of his passion. I know well Madam (said he to her) that I am going to dis∣please you; but I know also, that if I do not speak to you of my love, I must needs lose either my life or my reason. Not but that I am perswaded (added he without giving her leisure to interrupt him) that you know I love you as much as I am able to love. All my looks, my words, and my actions declare it to you; the Prince likewise being my Protector, speakes to you to my advantage; and your own merit being favourable to me in this case, does not permit you to doubt of my passion. Yes, Madam, not so much but your looking-glass tells you I adore you; but however, I will declare it to your self, at the hazard of seeing as much anger in your eyes, as there is love in my heart. I know well, Meleontus (an∣swer'd Lysimena) that the Prince my Brother speak∣ing to me in your favour, and approving your affe∣ction for me, I ought not to answer you sharply, and that I cannot be offended at what you tell me, without offending him. Therefore I will answer you like a good friend, rather than as an incensed Mistress. I tell you then, with much sincerity, I find no disposition in my heart ever to love any person; and If I did, it would not be your self. Not but that if the Prince my Brother went about to constrain me to marry you, I should be capable to obey him, rather than to make a great noise in the world: but Meleon∣tus, you would be more unhappy thereby, and I should be more miserable too; for, certainly, the love you have for me would soon be chang'd into aversion, when you observ'd the indifferencie I have for you turn'd into hatred. For, indeed, if after what I have said to you, you should oblige the Prince my Brother to force my will. I should believe I had cause to hate you. Ah! Madam (cry'd Meleontus) what you say is extreme rigorous to me to hear, and sufficient to in∣duce me to resolve to be reveng'd upon you, by mar∣rying you against your will. For, altho, Madam, I should be enforc'd to hate you after having marry'd you, yet I should be more happy than I am in loving you without being lov'd, or hoping to be so by you. Hatred has its pleasures as well as Love; there is con∣tempt and revenge in it: whereas when a person loves, tho he be ill-treated, nevertheless he cannot refrain from adoring the person by whom he his so receiv'd. But, Madam, let us not proceed to such hard extremities; doe justice to my love, suffer your self to be prevail'd upon by my constancie; and I assure you, assoon as you resolve to pity my unhappiness, you will account me less worthy of hatred than you doe, and your self less unhappy.

Lysimena was going to answer, when the Prince of Leontium enter'd, who observing Meleontus's dissa∣tisfaction in his countenance, drew the Princess aside, and told her so earnestly, that she would disoblige him if she did not regard Meleontus as a man deserv∣ing to pretend to marry her, that she was extremely afflicted at it. Nevertheless, she ingag'd her self to nothing, and yet did not absolutely tell the Prince, she was incapable to obey him. In the mean time, the

fair and dangerous Amarintha, being incensed in her mind against Lysimena, both because she had drawn away Meleontus from her, and because she be∣liev'd she had took pleasure in reading that humorous Portraiture at her chamber, diligently set her self to observe her. Wherebly, having a cunning wit, she came to know that the Princess had a very great a∣version for Meleontus, and as violent an inclination for Zenocrates. Wherefore imploying both these pas∣sions for her revenge, she endeavour'd to cause Mele∣ontus to marry Lysimena, and to cause her self to be lov'd by Zenocrates, onely to the end to hinder the Princess from being lov'd by him. And indeed, within a short time her revenge became more ea∣sie, because the Prince fell in love with her. This in∣duc'd her to give over the design of getting Zenocrates for her Lover; and she did all she could to augment the Prince's passion, that she might consequently more easily obtain the end she propos'd to her self. And tho she hated Meleontus as well as Lysimena, yet out of a malicious craft, she acted as if she desir'd to render him happy, with a secret intention to make him mi∣serable. For being perswaded Lysimena hated him, and had a very tender affection for Zenocrates, she well saw, that she could do nothing more disadvantageous either for him or for her, than to oblige the Prince to force Lysimena to marry Meleontus, tho the passion he had in his Soul suggested to him, that a greater feli∣city could not befal him. To this purpose a great re∣conciliation was made between Meleontus and Ama∣rintha, who pass'd mutual promises to serve one ano∣ther in all things. Zenocrates all this while was very a∣morous of Lysimena, but dar'd not intimate the least sign of it to her; and having experienc'd that in lov∣ing Amerintha his love turn'd into friendship, he found that inloving Lysimena, his friendship was become love. As for the Princess, she still thought her affection to Zenocrates was only friendship; so that she imparted all her discontents to him as well as to me: by which means he had the satisfaction to know that she had a great aversion for his Rival, but the grief too, to undestand that the Prince highly promoted his inte∣rests, and to observe the intimacy between Meleontus and Amarintha, whom the Prince was passionately enamour'd of. Amarintha's purpose on the other side being onely to torment Meleontus, she told him, she believ'd Zenocrates was in love with Lysimena, and that Lysimena took no notice of his boldness. But all the Court talks of it (added she maliciously) and I doubt not but 'tis very important to advertise her of it. Nevertheless, because she would receive this in∣telligence very ill, if I gave it her, I shall not meddle with the business. Amerintha had no sooner spoke this, but Meleontus wonder'd he had not suspected Ze∣nocrates of loving Lysimena; and as jealousie takes things alwaies in the extremity, he believ'd at the same time that possibly Lysimena was in love with Ze∣nocrates. Which thought taking deep impression in his mind, he resolv'd to be satisfied in the matter, thank'd Amerintha for the information she gave him, tho it render'd him more unhappy. Within a few daysafter, he went to the Princess, finding her alone, I know not, Madam (said he to her) how you will receive a matter which I have to tell you, but I know the respect alone I have to your glory, induces me to advertise you, that Zenocrates deports himself in such a manner, that it is believ'd he is extremely a∣morous of you, and that you cannot but perceive it. Because you believe jealousie is an indubitable proof of love (answer'd Lysimena with a cold aspect) no question you would make a Rival to your self, on purpose to have a pretext to act like a jealous Lover. But, Meleontus, have not recourse to such an extra∣vagant device; for I have but too certain a belief that you love me: but to my unhappiness, the knowledg I have of your affection cannot produce the like in me; since to tell you sincerely (added she) I have done all I could to love you, but in vain. However, for what concerns Zenocrates, I answer you, that he is no more but my friend, and as long as he comports himself only as such, I will not be brought to treat him ill as a lover. The Princess had scarce ended these words, but Zenocrates enter'd: assoon as he appear'd, Lysimena blush'd; of which Zenocrates not knowing the cause, the inquietude it gave him caus'd him to do the like, But he soon recover'd himself, and ad∣vertis'd Meleontus that the Prince enquir'd for him; so that this Favourite was constrain'd to leave his Ri∣val with his Mistress. Assoon as he was gone, Zeno∣crates percieving some discontent in the fair eyes of Lysimena, conjur'd her to tell him what she had in her mind. In truth, Zenocrates (said she to him) I wish you knew, but I think I have not the power to tell you. It must be some strange thing then (answer'd he) and I fear (added this secret Lover) 'tis some artifice of Amerintha. I do not doubt (reply'd Lysi∣mena.) But I beseech you, Madam (said Zenocrates, who is naturally very curious) tell me whether I am concern'd in that which you wish I knew. You are as much as my self (answer'd Lysimena). 'Tis then some horrid wickedness I am accused of (re∣ply'd he) if it be, I conjure you, Madam, to believe that I am perfectly innocent. I believe so (an∣swer'd she) and to testifie so much to you (proceeded the Princess, blushing) I will at this instant resolve to acquaint you with what Meelontus has told me. I shall be oblig'd to you for it, Madam (reply'd Zenocrates) speak therefore I conjure you, and tell me exactly all that Meleontus said to you against me. He told me (answer'd Lysimena, not imagining really that Zenocrates was in love with her) that all the Court believes you have an affection for me, and that I understand it without taking it ill. I leave you to judge (added she) whether this be well-pleasing to me to hear. Ah! Madam (cry'd he) I am unhappy. No, no, Zenocrates (answer'd Lysimena) do not fear that this accident shall deprive you of my friend∣ship; for tho I am much troubled at the rumour, yet I will not punish you for a crime which you have not committed. Alass! Madam (repli'd he) you ill interpret my words. For, in brief (added he out of a transport of love) that which causes me to account my self unhappy, is, that the whole Court knowes I almost dye for love of you, and you alone are ignorant of it. Yes, Divine Prin∣cess (proceeded Zenocrates with the most passionate looks in the World) I have not power to tell you that I do not love. I acknowledge, that without this occasion, perhaps I should never have told you that I love you, and I had almost resolv'd to dye without giving you any testimonies of my affection; but finding a necessity upon me to declare my self ex∣actly, I am too sincere, Madam, to offer to excuse my self of a crime, which I esteem glorious to commit. For in truth, Madam, the seemingly inconstant Zeno∣crates is the most faithful Lover that ever liv'd; and moreover, you might have observ'd that for some time ago I have chang'd my manner of acting.

But Zenocrates (answer'd the Princess much surpriz'd) you do not consider what you speak; for if you per∣swade me that you are amorous of me, you hazard the losing of my friendship. Should you deprive me of your Friendship, Madam (reply'd he) you would take nothing from me that could render me happy. No, Madam, that friendship as precious as it is, can no longer content me; I am a rash per∣son, and have desires more ambitious. Neverthe∣less, I promise you to keep them secret for fear of offending you. But is it possible, Zenocrates (inter∣rupted the Princess) that there should be any truth in your words, and that you will force me to banish you? I permit you still to contradict your self (ad∣ded she) for I have so tender a friendship for you, that I will do all things to preserve it. Were I as∣sur'd to dye at this very moment (answer'd Zeno∣crates) I could not resolve to contradict the most cer∣tain truth in the world. But, Madam, I conjure you by that Friendship where with you have honor'd me, have pity upon an unhappy Friend that has lov'd you in spight of himself, that has receiv'd love into his heart under the appearances of friendship; and do not destroy him, for perhaps you would regret him after you had destroy'd him (added he sighing). But Zeno∣crates (reply'd Lysimena.) what can I do for you in this case without acting against my self? Is it not true, Madam (said he) that if you had not discover'd I lov'd the Princess of Syracusa, or some other person that probably could not render me happy, you would have pity'd me, comforted me, and given me Coun∣sel? I confess it (answer'd Lysimena). Then I be∣seech you (reply'd he) comfort me, and counsel the unhappy Zenocrates. He desires no more of you, he has really ceas'd being your Friend, to become your Lover; but being thereby more unhappy, does not he deserve your compassion? I know I have told you, your friendship could render me hap∣py no longer; but however, in the deplorable con∣dition I am, become at least my Friend, tho I am no longer yours. I promise you, Madam, to do exactly what ever you please; you shall be Mistress of all my actions, looks, and words. Suffer me therefore to love you as I am able to love you, and love me also as you—. But what say I? (ad∣ded he). No, no, Madam, I know not what I would say; and should I have said it, I should have repented of it the next moment. Hate me then, and banish me; for I see but too well, that I can ne∣ver be happy. No doubt you deserve never to be so (said Lysimena) but the interest of my Honour, re∣quires me not to make any stir in the world, that might be to my disadvantage; therefore, Zenocrates since you desire me to act like a friend still, I counsel you to cure your self, to become inconstant again, and to get a new Mistress to morrow, to whom you may be so diligent a servant as to extinguish the un∣pleasing rumour Meleontus has told me of. Moreo∣ver, I forbid you ever to speak to me of your love, as you tender the enjoying the liberty to see me. But yet once more, Zenocrates, resume your accustomed manner of acting, be a servant to all the Beauties, one after another, till you find your self perfectly cu∣red. Zenocrates endeavour'd at first to oppose this ad∣vice of Lysimena; but the Princess becoming angry, and speaking to him with an air that intimated there was no other course to be taken but obedience, he crav'd her pardon for having resisted her, he submit∣ted absolutely to her pleasure, and he engag'd never to speak to her of his passion, to be cur'd of it, and to appear a Lover of some fair one of the Court. And accordingly within a few daies after, Zenocrates accustom'd himself to visit a Kinswoman of Clida∣mira, who is sufficiently fair. But for that he would not have the Princess suspect him of being become a∣mourous of this Lady, he shortly after deserted her for another, and that other for a third. And thus he seem'd inconstant in the eyes of all the Court, that he might seem constant in those of Lysimena, to whom he sufficiently testifi'd by his looks, that his heart was not chang'd in reference to her, and that his constan∣cy was imputable to her as the cause. In the mean time he suffer'd more than can be imagin'd; for he talk'd eternally of love to women whom he did not affect, and never spoke of it to the person whom a∣lone he could love. When he made Verses, he avoyded putting any thing into them, that might particularly sute to the person for whom he pretended to compose them, because he would have the Princess attribute them all to her self. And indeed he contriv'd them so ingeniously, that without any ones observance he al∣waies accommodated them to the Princess, who hav∣ing such a wit as she has, understood well enough what Zenocrates desir'd she should. But being very prudent too, she took no notice to him of any thing.

In the mean time Amerintha (who made poyson of all occurrences) perceiving she had no longer any ground to tell Meleontus that Zenocrates was amourous of Lysimena, made divers railleries upon her, believ∣ing that Zenocrates had given over loving her as well as his other Mistresses. 'Tis true, all the world had so great respect for Lysimena, that her raillerios were ill taken, and serv'd onely to manifest her malice. As for Meleontus, he no longer knew whom to accuse as the cause of Lysimena's aversion, and continued to serve her out with much assiduousness, omitting no∣thing that might please her. His magnificence was conspicuous in all things, she had more divertisement than she desir'd, and he visited her continually: but being of a violent and unequal temper, he some∣times spoke to her with extroardinary submissive∣ness, and sometimes imperiously, relying upon the Prince's favour, who still continued his Courtship to Amerintha, tho she was not much more faithful to him than another; for an humoursome woman can never be determin'd to any person, how much soever it concerns her to be so.

But the Princess having honoured me already with a tender affection, made me privy to all that befel her, she declar'd to me her aversion for Me∣leontus and Zenocrates's love to her self, with the new cause of his inconstancy. About this time Zenocrates finding scarce any Lady in the Court to whom he had not made some professions of devotion, was a little longer servant to a Kinswoman of Amerintha than he had been to all others. Which Lysimena observ∣ing, spoke to me one day concerning it, after a man∣ner that evidenc'd to me she had a greater kindness for him than she imagin'd. But before I tell you what she said to me thereupon, I must describe the place to you, where she spoke of it, because 'tis something pertinent to my discourse, and because I naturally love Gardens so well, that I cannot resolve to mention them meerly by the way. Wherefore as I willingly use to make some stay in traversing a Garden, so my mind as readily stays to describe a handsome place when I have occasion to speak something of any such. Know

then, that there's a man at Leontium called Adi∣mantus, who is lookt upon as a very happy man. His Lineage is noble; when he was young he was handsome, and well-shap'd, dextrous at all things, very prudent in all affairs he takes in hand; at present he is of a great age, but has a comely stature still, and a very noble and becom∣ing aspect. He has riches even in abundance, as perfect health as a young man, inclinations to love pleasures, and wherewith to enjoy them, a Wife handsome and prudent, many good and in∣genious children, and amongst the rest an el∣der Son, who is known and esteem'd by the whole Court. He has likewise a Daughter, whom I account handsomer than Amerintha, tho Amerin∣tha is one of the handsomest persons in the world, but with this difference, that she I speak of has as much wisdome as beauty, and the other yields in vertue almost to those that have the least; Moreover, Adimantus is happy too in the Wives of his Children, and I know one of them that has a pretty agreeable and delicate air which ren∣ders her infinitely lovely. But Adimantus being a prudent man in his pleasures, he took care in the beginning of his life to chuse such as might last him till death. To which purpose beyond one of the Suburbs of Leontium, he has a garden that is one of the most handsome and delightful in the World, and it is made use of to walk in by all people of Quality in Leontium, of either Sex; for Adimantus, who is of a magnificent inclina∣tion, permits free entrance to all Persons of Con∣dition. The way that leads to it is plain and not long; there are certain Walks before the Gate, the Architecture of which is not curious, but sufficiently handsome. The first entrance is into a fair Court, which has in the upper end a large Balustrade of Iron, beyond which is seen a spacious and stately Garden-Plot, with a goodly fountain in the middle, and beyond that a long Walk, which endeth in a great Arch'd-Porch, where there is a gate made with grates. Through which one may see another Walk which reaches to a lit∣tle Terrass, from whence is a prospect of all the Country about, and of part of Leontium at a di∣stance. But the better to describe this excellent place, you must know, that on the right and left sides of the Gate that enters into the Court, there are two other grated ones, which open into two Courts separated from the first. On each side are Pavilions both alike, of handsome structure, the apartments of which are no less comely than con∣venient. The first Balustrade I spoke of, being pass'd, and two little green plats inclos'd with small pillars of Marble being cross'd, upon which are seen ndry Garden-plots with embosted and carv∣ed work, you enter into a spatious Plot borderd about with Pyramidal Cypresses, and having a fountain in the midst. Which being pass'd over into a Walk beyond, there is a concourse of eight large and very pleasant Walks, and there is one that lies on the left hand, the whole length of the Garden, which is admirably handsome. But to the end Adimantus might leave more freedome to those that walk there, and have more himself; you must know, he has several Walks that are on∣ly for his own use. Beyond the Grated gate which is at the end of the great Walk, there is the Terrass I spoke of, very pleasant Vines, and a handsome Orchard. On the other side there is also another spacious Orchard, which is onely for himself; there is a particular Garden for Orange∣trees, wherein are seen the rarest Flowers and Plants in the World. So that in all seasons, admi∣rable Fruits and Flowers are found in this delicious place: many times there is Musick there, and al∣most continually good Company. But to come to the place which belongs to my Story, you must know, that descending from this fair Garden, there is a long walk encloss'd with quicksets which has two Banquetting-Houses at the two ends, on the one side whereof along the wall, and on the other side along the Hedge, are the goodli∣est Fruit-trees that ever were seen. The Pavili∣on that is toward the Terrass serves only for shel∣ter from the Sun and the rain, or to repose upon the Seats that are in it, as well as in the other two Pavilions that are in the same row. But as for that which is on the side towards the en∣trance, 'tis the most lovely Cabinet that ever I be∣held. For, conceive, Madam, that it is square, made with a round lover roof, pav'd with Mar∣ble, having a Balustrade round about it, a Foun∣tain spurting out in the midst, which falls into a Bason of Jasper; and that the side opposite to the Gate that opens to the end of the Walk has a great Looking-glass which augments the represen∣tations, multiplies the Fountain, and causes the Walk to be seen in what place soever one stands. So that sitting in this place, one may muse very a∣greeably at the purling noise and coolness of the wa∣ter, which also makes divers agreeable and diver∣tising Figures when you please. In this place it was that the Princess Lysimena going to sit one day, commanded me to follow her, whilst all the rest that attended her remain'd in the walk. The Princess was sometimes weary with walking, and at first intended only to enter in and sit down a while in this Cabinet. As for me, I plac'd my self at her feet upon a square stone which I found there by chance. She had not long been there, but she be∣gan to speak to me concerning Zenocrates, and ask me if I believ'd he was become constant, and lov'd Andro∣mira's Kinswoman in good earnest. But, Madam (said I to her) you are not sufficiently considerate in speak∣ing as you do; for if Zenocrates were become constant, to her you speak of, he must necessarily be inconstant to you. Ah! Amiclea (answer'd she blushing) it cannot be call'd inconstancy when a person alters his mind towards one that is not willing to be lov'd. For my part (said I to her smiling) I conceive that he that ceases to love one that is not willing to be hat∣ed, he may alwaies be call'd inconstant. If your o∣pinion be true (answer'd she, blushing again) then Zenocrates is really inconstant; for I confess I would not that he should hate me. Then you are willing, Madam (reply'd I) that he should love you; for not to flatter your self, you must not think to be eternally lov'd without your consenting to it, and perhaps not without loving too. But, Amiclea (said Lysime∣na) the inclination I have for Zenocrates is certainly no more but Friendship. For my part, Madam (answer'd I smiling) I have thought long since, that when one has Friendship for an agreeable Lover, it wants not much to turn it into Love. For, confess the truth, Madam; you would not like that Zenocrates should have a violent passion, for any other. I acknowledge it (reply'd the Prin∣cess)

but tis only because I think a great Friendship cannot consist at the same time in the heart with an ardent Love. But, Madam (said I) that which you say does not well sute with the case of Zenocrates, for you know he is possess'd with Love. Sincerely (answer'd Lysimena, turning away her head a little) I will not name his affection so; and besides, if he continues so diligent a Courtship to Andromira's Kins∣woman, I believe in a short time he will have neither Love nor Friendship for any other person, and She will wholly engross his heart. 'Tis not (added she) that this ought very much to displease me, for I would not have given the least hope to Zenocrates, but out of a humor I am not Mistress of, I could be will∣ing he would alwayes consider me more than all the rest of the World. As the Princess was speaking this, she lift up her head, thinking she heard some noise about the pav'd steps which lie round about the Cab∣inet. And it happened that she saw Zenocrates leaning upon the Balustrade, who being there when we en∣ter'd into the Cabinet, durst not shew himself, be∣cause the Princess immediately began to speak of him. Lysimena perceiving him, made a great shreek, which causing me to look on that side her eyes turn'd, I be∣held Zenocrates almost as much surpris'd as Lysimena. Yet he recollected himself in a little space, and descending with extreme diligence, came to cast him∣self upon his knees before the Princess, before she could resolve what to doe: I beseech you, Madam (said he to her) pardon me a crime which Chance and Love have caus'd me to commit; I would not speak in these terms before Amiclea, If I had not understood from your own mouth and hers, that you have told her something concerning the passion which I have for you, and the indifference which you have to∣wards me. Zenocrates (answer'd Lysimena hastily) you are not indifferent to me, for I had a Friendship for you a quarter of an hour agoe, but at present I find that I am going to hate you horribly. Was there ever any boldness equal to yours (proceeded she) to dare to hear what I speak in secret to Amiclea? Alas! Madam (reply'd Zenocrates) if you knew how it came to pass, you will find that I am innocent. I con∣ceive, Madam (said I to the Princess) no per∣son ought to be condemn'd without being first heard, and therefore you may please to give Zenocrates the hearing. If I thought he could justifie himself (an∣swer'd Lysimena) I would forbid him to speak; but be∣ing perswaded, the more he speaks, the more crimi∣nal he will appear, I permit him to say what he will. I shall tell you then Madam (said he to her) that I am an unfortunate person. That's not the thing I would have you tell me (interrupted she) but only what you came hither for. I came hither to entertain my self, with thinking upon you, Mad∣am (reply'd Zenocrates) at a time wherein I could not be with you with liberty to entertain you a∣lone. But to think of me (said the Princess) it was not necessary for you to be alone. I acknowledge it, Madam (answer'd he) but having purposed to write something in my Tablets, with intention to cause you to read it, I made choice of the place of greatest soli∣tude; and if you please to see whether I speak true, give your self the trouble to read what I was writing when you came hither. At first the Princess refus'd to read what Zenocrates had written, but at last she took the Tablets, and therein found these words:

Will you never go farther than Friendship, in∣comparable Lysimena? and those fair eyes which have excited so great Love in me, will they ne∣ver behold me with compassion? I have promis'd you, Madam, not to speak of Love to you, but I have not promis'd you, not to write to you of it; and indeed tho I had sworn it, the torments which I suffer would dispense with me for my Oaths. Consider therefore seriously, Madam, what you would have become of me, for—

The Princess blusht as she read what I have repeat∣ed to you; after which, beginning to speak, If you think to justifie your self by this (said she to Zenocrates) you are extremely deceiv'd. I pretend only (an∣swer'd he to prove to you that I came hither for no o∣ther reason but to meditate of you. But when you saw me (said she) Why did not you come down? Why did you not go forth? Or at least; why did not you shew your self? When I saw you, Madam (answer'd he) I thought of no more but seeing you; but presently after I heard my self nam'd, and Love making me curious, I hearkn'd what you said con∣cerning me; and after that, respect caus'd me to stay where I was; and the fear to displease you, con∣strain'd me not to change my place. This, Madam, is the cause of my Crime; nevertheless, I am suffi∣ciently punished for my rash curiosity, for I have heard nothing that I can draw to my advantage. Ha! Zen∣ocrates (reply'd she) you are better pleas'd with me than you signifie, but I am so angry both with my self and you, that I will punish both of us alike; and therefore I resolve to deprive my self of a Friend, and you of a Mistress. Goe, leave Leontium for some time (said she to him) goe to Herbesa, whither your affairs call you; and if it be true that Andro∣mira's Kinswoman has not laid very powerful chains upon you, every place will afford you objects of con∣solation. Ah! Madam (cry'd he) you are too cruel: No, no, you shall never banish me so easily; and as for the reproaches you make me, I will soon put an end to them; I will never more see the per∣son you speak of; and if it be still your pleasure that I should counterfeit being a Lover to hide the passion I have for you, I promise you never to serve one and the same person above eight dayes, but to appear so inconstant for the future, that your self shall never have reason to doubt of my constancie. Yet Zenocra∣tes could not prevail at all with this discourse, nor make his peace all that day. Lysimena went away without granting him pardon, and we left Zenocrates in that place so pale, sad, and so afflicted, that I was moved with his discontent. And so was Lysimena too as well as I, and more; but she endeavour'd to hide her sentiments from me, and counterfeited plea∣santness the rest of the day. Nevertheless, Zenocra∣tes made good his word, he gave over courting An∣dromira's kinswoman, and seem'd so chang'd, that he was constrain'd to pretend he was sick. But, in fine what cannot the constancie of a deserving person doe, when he knows well how to improve all op∣portunities fortune presents him with, and the aver∣sion his Mistress has for his Rival? Lysimena at length found that she lov'd Zenocrates more than she thought she did; she permitted him to adore her, and acknow∣ledg'd to him that if her fortune would permit it, she should account her self happy in being able to make him so. Moreover, she had this advantage, that the Princess her Mother favour'd Zenocrates. Yet

after all, she took from him all hope of being hap∣py, and promis'd him only to continue her resistance to the Prince her Brother, when he interceded for Meleontus. After this Zenocrates's life was pleasant enough, for tho he was not permitted to hope, yet he did not cease to doe so. But to the end not to give occasion to Meleontus or Amerintha to trouble their innocent affection, he still seem'd the most incon∣stang man in the world, and he counterfeited so ex∣quisitely, that the two persons who had such extraor∣dinary subtilety in the discerning the most ingenious artifices, were deceiv'd in this occasion. But that which was remarkable in this Adventure was, that the Princess her self was many times deceiv'd, by be∣lieving that Zenocrates was really inconstant. 'Tis true, 'twas easie for him to justifie himself; for he offer'd Lysimena to visite none but her self, to converse with no other, and to renounce all the rest of the world, and all kind of interests and considerations, if she requir'd it. So that notwithstanding the disgust Meleontus's love gave her, Lysimena injoy'd some agree∣able moments. The Princess her Mother hated Me∣leontus and loved Zenocrates. She found in this agree∣able Lover, submissiveness, respect, wit, and con∣stancie; and to render all this more sweet, their af∣fection was so secret, that none of the Court imagin'd there was any thing more than a bare friendship be∣tween them. Yet oftentimes they had little Quar∣rels, not only because Lysimena suspected he took de∣light in being inconstant and counterfeiting too well; but also because Zenocrates, being naturally a little sub∣ject to distrust, he had now and then a causless fear that Lysimena would at length suffer her heart to be touch'd with Meleontus's passion. But however, these small fallings out serving only to invigorate the dearness of their affection, they were not much to be pity'd. Yet the Princess did not tell Zenocrates she lov'd him, but so agreeably suffer'd him to love her, that he told it to himself. As for Meleontus, he made many splendid and costly entertainments; but Zenocrates with less shew made gallantries that more affected Lysimena's heart. I remember one day amongst the rest, Zenocrates be∣thought himself of a thing sufficiently gallant, which I shall tell you by and by; but first you must know there was at that time a man of Quality of Syracusa at Leontium, a great Friend of the Princess, and that de∣servedly, being a person of no ordinary merit.

I beseech you, dear Amiclea (interrupted Plotina) make us know a man whom you believe worthy to be Lysimena's Friend; for, for my part, I love much to judge of people by their Friends. I am much of Plotina's humor in this (said Valeria) and I know Clelia is so too.

Since 'tis so (said Amiclea) it will be easie for me to satisfie you; besides, I must confess to you, it was hard for me to resolve to mention this illustrious friend of Lysimena without commending him. Know then, Theander is a man of Quality, whose Character is so particular, that 'tis not easie to describe it well. He is tall, of a goodly shape and noble Port; his aspect is extreme graceful, and there is a certain air in his whole Person, that denotes part of his na∣ture, and promises with sincerity, and goodness. He has a large rising Nose, his Visage is somewhat long, his Eyes are sufficiently little, but so sweet and smiling, that 'tis easily seen his heart is sensible of pleasures. His action is careless enough; his hair is of a good length; and sometimes he uses so sprightly a silence, that 'tis manifest he hears nothing but what he understands most throughly, and of which many times he is able to speak better than those he hears. And indeed, Theander has a great natural wit, which he has so carefully improv'd, that there are scarce any Sciences in nature he is not capable of. When he is amongst some of the Disciples of the wise Thales, Democritus, Hippocrates, or Phythagoras, he makes it known that he is perfectly skill'd in all the Secrets of Nature, and that Philosophy has nothing conceal'd from him. If he be amongst such as love polite learn∣ing, and especially Poetry, he is of so exquisite a judgement, that (as I have heard from intelligent Persons) he understands all the excellencies and all the defects of Homer and Hesiod; and if he should undertake to compose an Heroick Poem, he would doe it according to all the rules that the most accurate Masters have given for such works. He is a curious examiner of all the graces of Poetry, and accurate as to the defects that are found in most Verses; yet his Criticalness is without inhumanity: he excuses small faults in handsome Composures, and never condemns any thing unjustly. He speaks with facility and ex∣actness, and when he pleases, he writes Letters of a certain pleasing strain, peculiar to himself. More∣over, Theander is grave and something melancholy; but his melancholy is serene, and easily admits of joy. For he loves pleasures and seeks them; but he seeks them without ostentation, he loves to chuse them his own way, and not to divert himself with the multi∣tude. He has a sincere and upright heart, a firm and generous Soul; he looks upon ambition as a passion which he has overcome, and the Victory over which has establisht the quiet of his life. By this means he is free from the eares that possess such as desire to advance their fortunes; he is content with his own, which indeed is sufficiently good, and he enjoys it peaceably in the midst of the tumult of a great Court, where he is not interessed in any thing that might disturb his pleasures. Furthermore, The∣ander is indued with an heroical Courage, whereof he has given very eminent proofs in several occasions; he hath been seen to break through an Enemy Ar∣my, that he might put himself into a Besieged place, and at another time to pass almost alone through an Enemy Country to get to an Army, and be present at some dangerous enterprise. But the Valour of Theander has alwayes been without vanity, and he has more car'd to assure himself of his own heart, than to attract applauses which he values not. His indiffer∣ence in respect of this kind of glory is so much the more commendable, in that his heart is not other∣wise indifferent. For he loves his friends very ten∣derly and generously, and is much lov'd by them; and that which is very glorious to him, he has a great number of illustrious ones. But besides, Theander has the best temper'd mind in the world, and as he is not capable to regulate his own sentiments by those of o∣thers, so he does not oblige others to follow his: By meanes of which candor, he has friends whose Max∣ims are absolutely contrary to his, with whom never∣theless, he converses with great kindness. His Soul is indu'd with sweetness, equity, tenderness, and humanity. He is much mov'd with worth and ver∣tue; he loves liberty above all things, and places su∣preme felicity in contentment, Of which never to en∣danger the loss, he has renounc'd the love of all that is troublesome and painful. He loves handsome Objects in general, but no particular one is able to confine him so far as to render him unhappy; so that love is ra∣ther

a naked delight in his heart, than a passion. A young Shepherdess pleases him with her graceful sim∣plicity, more than a Princess with excessive magnifi∣cence. Novelty likewise has some influence upon him, and variety in certain things, as much delights his Eyes, as it does all the World in the Flowers of a Meadow. He loves also to be fully inform'd of cer∣tain weaknesses of which the Wisest are sometimes ca∣pable, and sometimes he makes to himself pleasures of curiositie, which are not common to all the World. The famous Rhodopis has had nothing so private in her life, but he knows it; and drawing divertisement out of the follies of others, he his much delighted to understand them. As for women, in reference to his Friendship, he finds few worthy of it; but when he meets with any one of a prudent and agreeable wit, and of a firm and free heart, he places her in the rank of his Friends; being far from their injustice who believe it is impossible there should be any woman ca∣pable of a rational converse. Theander was never dazled with Grandeur, and he knows so well how to abstract things from that which is extrinsecal to them, that nothing ever deceives him. He has also a facility peculiar to himself, for he is often seen to walk alone, because he has lent out his Equipage. Yet he does not lend out these kind of things out of the thought to be repai'd in the same nature, for many times he does it to persons that are unable to render him the like office. Moreover, he has a little Galliot upon a river that runs at the foot of a house of his upon the Bank of Himera, which serves his own conveniencie less than that of others; for even to strangers that desire it, he willingly lends it, provided they be fair; and so it goes to and fro continually without being al∣most ever imploy'd in his own service. Nor is it mate∣rial whether such strangers be Persons of Quality, or no: Beauty is sufficient in this case; and be they but only young, yet the Galliote shall not be deny'd them. In a word, Theander is indu'd with vertue advantage∣ous both to himself and others, which renders him very acceptable, and is undoubtedly very expedient to the felicity of his life; for being free from all the tumultuousness of the world, and the passions, he affects nothing but what sutes with his own Genius, and consequently finds himself less exposs'd than o∣ther men to all the misfortunes of life; because vertue alone suffices to render him happy; and never seeking any good but such as is attainable, he never imploys his time unprofitably to himself. Thus you see what a Person the illustrious Friend of Lysimena is, who was at Leontium when matters stood in the posture I have related. About that time Lysimena made a short journy of pleasure to a house belonging to the Father of an intimate Friend of Theander, who is a person of no ordinary merit. Amerintha was one of the Com∣pany, and so was Andromira; Meleontus and Zenocrates took care not to fail to be there, and indeed no∣thing render'd this appointment less agreeable to Lysimena, than the too good Company. For Amerin∣tha's charms, and Meleontus's merit were sufficiently troublesome to her. The place design'd to goe to, being wonderfully delightful, afforded no small plea∣sure at the first arrival. For not to mention the fore-Court which is handsome and stately, the Arch'd∣walk which is on the right side of the entrance, and gives an excellent prospect over a spacious part of the Country, till the light loses it self; the two large Banquetting-houses, which are at the Corners of the Court; the Statues which stand in nieches in several places of the front of the building, the Sym∣metry of which is exact, stately, and agreeable; the lofty Cupulo that arises out of the middle of it; the magnificence of the Porch, with the number of its Pilasters and Pillars; the ornaments of the Stairs and several Appartments; the Cabinet out of which are divers handsome prospects; nor the ex∣cellent Pictures which are seen in all places; 'tis suf∣ficient to tell you, that there is a Hall in this stately House, whose greatness, form, carv'd work, Pic∣tures, and Ornaments astonish all that enter into it, tho the outside gave them an expectation of seeing nothing but what is excellent. It is no improbable conjecture, that this Hall was built by one of those Kings of Aegypt, who erected the famous Pyramids; and indeed the Structure represents no ordinary Mag∣nificence. But this is not the only admirable thing in this place; for there is a Garden which is one of the greatest that ever was seen; it is rais'd after the manner of a Terrass; in the middle is an admirable fountain; and notwithstanding the place is very high, and discovers a great compass of the Country, to the great delectation of the sight, yet 'tis not per∣ceiv'd that there is a River beyond it, tho it serves very much to augment the agreeableness of the place. On the other side of this Garden is seen below, a Meadow and a very large Pond; and the Park be∣ing very spacious, and the wayes of it unequal, the Prospects of it are also very different; so that it is very delightful to goe about it in a Chariot. 'Twas to this place (which is called Erycina, because in its raised situation it something resembles the Temple that stands upon Mount Eryx) that Lysimena desir'd to goe: but Meleontus having been the proposer of the design, was the Person that gave a magnificent Collation. Yet it was an unhappy time for him, for Lysimena was more offended when he did things well, than when he did them ill; so that this day her mind was in a very bad temper; for all the service was admirable, the Musick excellent, and Meleontus's deportment all the day both in actions and words very noble and generous. As they were sitting in the stately Porch (which was cooler than any other place) he acquitted himself very handsomely of a dis∣course, which by reason of his own concernment in it was not a little perplexing. For after several things transiently spoken of, it came to be ask'd, Whether benefits produc'd Friendship, rather than Friendship it self, or great desert without benefits. I assure you (said Lysimena thereupon) that benefits alone pro∣duce no great dearness in the hearts of most people; for usually the remembrance of benefits wears out of their minds, as grief does out of the hearts of a∣fflicted persons, from whence, every moment steals a part. So that time weakens and diminishes grati∣tude, as well as it does affliction. 'Tis true, Madam, in ingrateful minds (answer'd Meleontus) but not in such as are generous, which are alwayes grateful. For my part (reply'd Zenocrates) tho I am not un∣grateful, and will never be so, yet I conceive that if I received benefits from a Person without merit, the friendship I should bear him would be more in my will than in my heart. But, if benefits without merit (said Amerintha) cannot produce Friendship, doe you think that friendship without merit can produce a very ten∣der one? and doe you think that desert alone without friendship and benefits is able to beget a great affec∣tion? In truth (said Andromira) if friendship be not joyn'd with desert and benefits, those latter will have

no great effect. But how can we doe otherwise (said Meleontus) than love those that serve us and doe us good upon all occasions? And how can we but love such too (said Amerintha) as love us very ardently? Many times (answer'd Zenocrates) they that are so of∣ficious, doe it out of Vanity, and not out of any hon∣est principle; wherefore, provided we publish their good deeds and be ready to return the like in case of need, I conceive we may dispense with loving them, and yet not be ingrateful. For friendship and gratitude are two different things; and I think we ought to have the latter towards all, from whom we receive benefits, and the former only for those that affect our heart either by their deserts, or their friendship, or by reason of our own inclination. But will you love People of no merit (said Amerintha) because they love you? and is it not just to love those that doe you services? For my part (said Lysimena) if I were to love people of little merit, I should think my self more oblig'd to love such as lov'd me, than such as serv'd me; but to speak sincerely, Friendship not depending upon our Wills, 'tis in vain to dispute of a thing that is not in our power; and all that can rationally be said in this case, is, That desert alone produces esteem only, which is alwayes a great dis∣position to friendship; That benefits ought insensibly to ingage the receivers to their interests from whom they receive them, and at least beget a kind of grati∣tude in their minds, the effects whereof resemble those of friendship: but as for friendship singly with∣out desert and benefit, I conceive 'tis sufficient to have a complacencie and pity towards such as bear it; for to ingage to love all people without merit, of whom we may be belov'd, would be injurious to our true friends. All which you say is extremely ingeni∣ous, Madam (answer'd Meleontus) but I know servi∣ces and merit are of no account with you, unless your own inclination set a value upon them. So that, Madam, for the obtaining of your love, it is necessary to seek rather to please you, than to serve you; but the mischief is, 'tis more difficult to be agreeable to you than to render you service. I acknowledge it (reply'd she rising up) but I conceive all the world is of the same mind, and so I am not to be blam'd for it. Meleontus was no doubt dejected as he observ'd the aspect wherewith the Princess answer'd him; but he dissembled it, tho his discontent was extreme vio∣lent. Upon which the Princess, notwithstanding her aversion for him, could not but judge that he acted like an honest man; which she being vex'd at, and perceiving Zenocrates took no notice of nor determin'd to be melancholy this day as well as her self, the de∣bonair humor of Zenocrates disgusted her nice mind; so that when he approacht to her in the walk to speak to her apart, she frown'd upon him, and told him he lov'd her so little, that he was not displeas'd to see that Meleontus deportment was extraordinary com∣mendable. I confess it, Madam (answer'd Zeno∣crates wholly surpris'd) that I did not think of be∣ing discontented, because the Musick was good, and the Collation magnificent; but I am so at present with the commendations which you give my Rival. Ha: Zenocrates (said she to him, as she went from him) I will not thank you for the indignation which I have by force excited in your heart. After this she call'd Amerintha, that she might not be alone with him; so that the conversation became general all the rest of the day, Zenocrates not having opportunity to speak one word in private. Lysimena, to avoy'd it, propos'd it to consideration, Whether it is more plea∣sing to be very lovely without being much lov'd, than to be much lov'd without being amiable. But after every one had spoke their Reasons, it was concluded, That 'tis better to deserve to be lov'd and not to be so, than to be lov'd without desert; yet it was granted, that whereas usually people desire to be lovely, chief∣ly that they may belov'd, it is more pleasure to be lov'd than to be barely lovely; because instead of receiving of contentment thereby, the lovely person is disgusted with living amongst people that under∣stand not to doe justice to desert. But at length night approaching, preparation was made to return to Le∣ontium. Which returning was with sufficient melan∣choly; Lysimena was pensive, Meleontus dejected, Zenocrates sad, Amerintha vexed, and they proceeded in the way after a silent manner; when by chance a young Hart coming from amongst the bushes, a Grey∣hound that follow'd one of Meleontus Attendants, gave chase to him in the plain. Which unexpected Adven∣ture causing the Ladies that were on the same side to give a great cry, Amerintha would oblige Lysimena who was on the other, to turn her head to see the young Hart running swiftly upon the Plain. But the Princess was in so deep a muse, that not being willing to break it off, she told Amerintha carelesly, she would not see the chase unless it came on her side, without taking the pains to turn her self. She had no sooner spoke this, but the young Heart chancing to see people com∣ing towards him in the Plain, turn'd short, and pas∣sing before the heads of the Horses of Lysimena's Cha∣riot, came so near her, that it seem'd to those that heard what she said just before, to happen by some in∣chantment. Lysimena being agreeably surpris'd with this Accident, could not hinder her self from taking pleasure in beholding this casual divertisment. But it lasted not long; for by this time it was grown late, so that both the Hart and the Dog were soon lost out of sight. And in fine, the night sav'd the Young Harts life, and the Dog returned to his Master before we got to Leontium. Zenocrates knowing well enough how to improve all occasions, remember'd he had seen at the House of one of his intimate Friends, a Young tame Hart. Wherefore he went and requested it, and having caus'd a silver collar to be put about its neck engraven with the Characters of the Princess, the next day at noon he sent it to her with the most pleasant Verses in the world. He feign'd that the young Hart speaking to Lysimena, told her ingenious things, which bearing a double sense had reference both to the con∣dition of Zenocrates and his unhappiness in displeasing the Princess that day.

But doe not you remember the Verses upon the young Hart? (interrupted Plotina). If I had remem∣ber'd them (answered Amiclea) I would have repeated them; but all I can say of them is that they began thus,

I, like a young Actaeon follow you, Happy Diana, with too rash a view.

And after divers ingenious fancies they concluded thus

But if, for having seen your charms, I dye; No sighs, no tears shall wail my destiny.

I am very sorry I cannot recite more of them to you; but I must be contented with telling you, that this gal∣lantry extremely pleas'd Lysimena; she accepted the Hart with pleasure, pardon'd Zenocrates, and oblig∣ingly answer'd the Verses he had made, in the name of the young Hart, which in a short time became one

of her chief divertisements. For she put it into one of the Gardens of the Palace, where it grew so familiar and amiable, that almost every one made much of it, to please Lysimena. And it was so proud of the caresses made to it, that contrary to the Na∣ture of Stags, it became valiant, and was oftentimes seen not only to hold the Dogs at Bay, but to go to∣wards them and force them to fly. A few days after this gallantry, Zenocrates made another; the Princess having purposed to go very early in the morning to offer Sacrifice in a Temple a good distance from Le∣ontium, would not be follow'd by any besides her own Attendants. Zenocrates not being able to indure that the Princess should continue from morning to night without hearing of him, gain'd an interest in one of her waiting-women, and gave her three Letters to deliver to her at several hours of the day. And accordingly there being none but this Virgin and I in her Chariot, assoon as we were out of the City, she being of a debonair humour, and well belov'd by the Princess, gave her the first Letter, telling her she receiv'd it a little before they set forth. Being Zenocrates us'd to write to her often, she was not sur∣pris'd at this first Letter, but took it, and opening it, requir'd me to read it at the same time with her; and we found it to contain these very words:

ZENOCRATES to LYSIMENA.

IT seems Madam, you intend to spend a whole day without thinking of those that think of none but you, and you believe you cannot be con∣strain'd to think of them whether you will or no. But you shall see, before the day be past, that they who know how to love, find inventions, which indifferent persons never think of.

After this Letter was read, Lysimena imagin'd Ze∣nocrates thought it would be sufficient to oblige her to think of him all the day; but she was much surpris'd four hours after, when she saw one of her slaves (whom this waiting-woman of the Princess had so instructed) deliver her a second Let from Zenocrates. She open'd it with more haste than the former, and found that in it which I am going to repeat to you.

ZENOCRATES to LYSIMENA.

PErhaps you believe, Madam, it is but four hours since you departed from hence, but I swear to you I judge them to be four Ages. For a moment of discontent, and that caused by absence, seems so long to a Lover, that he may be allowed to reckon it for more than a year. In the mean time you account moments but for moments, and hours for hours. But if you imploy'd them in thinking of the constancy of the inconstant Zenocrates, it would be something; but you seem to mind nothing but Trees, the Meadows, and the Mountains which you see, whilst I am whol∣ly taken up in thinking of your Charms, your Wit, and my own unhappiness.

Well, Madam, (said I to Lysimena) what say you to Zenocrates's Gallantry? I say (answer'd she) that he diverts himself at my cost; for I told him yester∣day, I would not remember him all the day, but would only think of the Sacrifice I went to offer. Never∣theless, he endeavours to force me to think of him. After which Lysimena reprov'd the waiting-woman that was with her; but she did it so weakly, that it was apparent she was not much sorry for being de∣ceiv'd. A little while after we arriv'd at the Tem∣ple, the Sacrifice was offer'd, and we went to the Priests house where the Princess was to dine; but be∣fore that, an unknown person, whom the same wait∣ing-woman found in that place, deliver'd a third Let∣ter to Lysimena, who being now accustom'd to receive them, took it smilingly, and drawing me aside. It must be confest (said she) Zenocrates is not too wise. You have more reason (answer'd I) to say Zenocrates is an ingenious person and of good invention. After this she open'd the third Letter, which, if I am not mistaken, was in these terms.

ZENOCRATES to LYSIMENA.

PErhaps you think, Madam, you are so remote from me, that I cannot trouble you, but know, that should you go to the Worlds end, my love would follow you every where; and in whatever part of the Earth you were, I should de∣vise some invention to make you know that I am the most ardent Lover amongst mankind.

At least (said the Princess after she had read the Letter) Zenocrates is the most happy, in's having to do with a person that is not offended with his follies. After which we spoke very obligingly of him for a quarter of an hour, and laught sufficiently at this Gal∣lantry, which was so much the more ingenious, for that Lysimena durst not refuse the Letters that were presented to her, for fear of causing suspition in her attendants; besides, their affection being only inno∣cent, there was no reason for it. At length we depar∣ted from the Temple, and put our selves upon the way to Leontium. But when we were gone half way, a man on Horse-back approaching Lysimena's Chariot, delivered her a fourth Letter; after which he retir'd, and the Princess, having open'd it, found it contain these words.

ZENOCRATES to LYSIMENA.

IF you believe absence to be a remedy of love, you are extremely deceived, Madam; for since your departure, methinks I love you more by half. Yet I lov'd you yesterday more than e∣ver any person loved, and I am confident I have surpassed my self alone, in loving you more than I did. You see, Madam, that against your will you have been constrained to think four times this day upon the unhappy Zenocrates. I beseech you force him no more to have recourse to the same Artifices; think upon him sometimes vo∣luntarily, that he may be obliged to you for it; and if it be possible, make a pleasure to your self of the most constant and respectful passion that e∣ver was: for tho I can force you to think upon me, yet I find that I cannot constrain you to love me, and that without you I shall always be the most miserable person in the World.

This fourth Letter being read, Zenocrates attain'd the end he propounded to himself: for as long as the rest of the way lasted, we talk'd of nothing but him; and when we drew near to Leontium, we beheld him coming forth on purpose to meet the Princess upon one of the handsomest Horses in the World. But he had time onely to make a reverence and speak four or five words to her; because the Prince and Meleontus returning from hunting, appear'd and came to us. Now observe how matters stood at this time the Prince of Leontium lov'd Amerintha who out of a design of interest countenanc'd him; Amerintha was officious to serve Meleontus to the uttermost of her power for the same reason, and because she knew it was a way to prejudice Lysimena. Meleontus lov'd without being lov'd again; Zenocrates appear'd in∣constant, that he might be faithful to Lysimena; and the Princess loving Zenocrates more than she ima∣gin'd, very patiently endur'd the pretensions of Me∣leontus, but agreeably cherish'd the affection of Zeno∣crates, tho she did no more than suffer her self to be lov'd by him in secret. At this time, the Princess of Leontium, Lysimena's Mother, went to spend a month at a fair house of her own in the Country, whither the Prince went sometimes to visit her; but no persons durst go thither without him, because she had signified she would be there in solitude. So that Meleontus and Zenocrates did not see Lysimena, but when the Prince went to visit the Princess his Mother. As for me, I had the happiness to follow Lysimena in this little journey, which was very agreeable to me, I had more time to converse with her than at Leontium; and knowing all the secrets of her heart, I was her com∣forter in her discontents. Being she knew Ame∣rintha's vigilant subtlety, she prohibited Zenocrates to write to her so often as he wish'd, for fear any of his Letters might be lost, and cause some great un∣happiness to them. Whilst we were in this retire∣ment, the idleness of the Country occasioning the invention of pleasures which otherwise would not be thought of, the Princess one evening resolv'd to go abroad on Horse-back, followed onely by two of her waiting-women and my self, into a spacious Meadow which has a River on one side, and a Wood on the other, and she was attended by no more than four or five Slaves. We were no sooner come into that place, but we beheld six Horsemen issuing forth of the Wood, who approach'd towards us, and seem'd to have a purpose to rob the Princess of the Jewel she was adorn'd with this day, or else to carry her away; for their grim looks caus'd us to believe they had no good design. This surprising sight asto∣nisht the Princess; for having none but Slaves about her, who being without Arms betook themselves to their heels, she was in great fear lest some hard Ad∣venture should befal her. But at the same instant we saw appear at another place of the Wood, a man on Horse-back, young and admirably handsome, fol∣low'd by three others that seem'd to be his Atten∣dants; he observing the aspect and action of the Robbers, and the air and equipage of the Princess, did not demur a moment what to do, but drawing his sword courageously, cast himself between Lysimena and the Thieves. This valiant action no doubt sur∣pris'd those that intended to set upon us, but it did not cause them to fly. For being inrag'd at it, they endeavour'd to encompass and kill our succourer; but he taught them to their cost that his valour was more redoubtable than theirs. At first they kill'd one of his followers, but a moment after he kill'd two of theirs, wounded three, and beat them back into the Wood. After which coming to Lysimena with much civility, he offer'd her to accompany her whither she pleas'd. You may judge with how obliging an air, the Princess receiv'd this gallant stranger. Whoso∣ever you are (answer'd she) I promise you my friend∣ship as long as I live; for the service you have done me is so considerable, that I will not expect till I am oblig'd to grant it to you out of the gratitude I have for your merit. That which you say, is so obliging (reply'd the valiant Stranger) that I account my self too highly rewarded: yet I assure you (added he) I have reason to hope you will not repent of what you have promis'd me, when you know me more par∣ticularly: and I assure you too, you shall soon know there is no vanity in speaking as I do. After this Ly∣simena took the way towards the Castle, where the Princess of Leontium being inform'd of what had pass'd, receiv'd the Stranger with very high civili∣ties. Assoon as she beheld him, she felt an extroar∣dinary commotion in her heart, and lookt upon him with pleasure and attention; she imagin'd she had formerly seen some person that resembled him, and could not contain from sighing as she consider'd him: I beseech you (said she to him) generous Stran∣ger, satisfie me whence you came. I come at pre∣sent from Phaenicia, Madam (answer'd he). But were you born in that Country? (demanded she) and who taught you so well the Language of this? That's a secret, Madam (answer'd he) which I cannot tell but in private, and I am extremely desi∣rous to inform you of it. Upon which the Princess led him into her Cabinet, whilst Lysimena went to her Chamber to recover her self a while from the fright she had been in. Assoon as the valiant Strang∣er was there, beholding her with respect. Ah! Ma∣dam (said he to her) do you not know the unfortu∣nate Artemidorus, whom you gave life to? I was no doubt but a child when the Pyrates carried me away, but I remember so accurately all that I saw here, that whatever change time has made in my countenance, methinks 'tis easie for you to observe that I have the honour to be your Son. Ah! Artemidorus (said she, embracing him) my heart knew you sooner than my eyes; and this very moment wherein I consider you better, I behold in your Visage an indubitable proof of your words. If you doubt of it, Madam (said he to her) I shall tell you the very words you us'd to me alone in your Cabinet, when I departed with Cleanthus to go into Greece; Go, my Son (said you to me) go learn in a strange Country, how to make your self esteem'd in your own, when you return to it; and if it be possible, do not come back hither, till you can by your merit obscure that of the most worthy persons you will find here. If I could give you a more precise token of what I am, I conceive I should not have caus'd you to remember that gene∣rous command you laid upon me, because I confess to my shame I have not been able to become such as you commanded me to be. Howsoever, I can assure you, 'tis no fault of the wise Cleanthus, for he has o∣mitted no industry to render me worthy to be your son. But where is Cleanthus? (said the Princess of Leontium) and in what places have you pass'd your lives? As for Cleanthus (answer'd he) I hope he will be here within a short time; and, as for our adven∣tures, I will relate them to you in few words. You know, Madam, we took ship to go into Greece, and no

doubt you are not ignorant that we were made cap∣tive by Pyrates. But you never heard that they sold us to others, who carried us into Phaenicia. For I that was no uncomely person in my childhood, I was bought to be presented to the Queen of that Country. But as for Cleanthus, he was sold to a Priest of the Temple of Neptune at Tire, who soon observing his wisdome and abilities, propos'd to the King of Phaeni∣cia to place him about the young Princes his sons, who are indeed the most goodly and accomplisht Prin∣ces in the World. The eldest reigns with all ima∣ginable glory; and the youngest is the ornament and delight of the Court. At first Cleanthus not daring to discover who I was, pretended I was his son; by which means I being restored to his governance, he had as great care of me as of the young Princes, with whom he was plac'd to teach them several accom∣plishments. Sometime after, thinking he had given sufficient testimonies of his honesty, and perform'd service enough to obtain what he desir'd, he confi∣ded in the King, told him my quality, and requested liberty to bring me back hither. But in this occasi∣on the vertue and worth of Cleanthus were an invin∣cible obstacle to his design; for the King of Phaenicia, judg'd him so necessary for the education of the two young Princes, that tho he doubted not the truth of his words, yet he made semblance that he did, and told him at length that however it were, he would not give him the liberty to depart from his Court till the Princes his sons were of age to need no more in∣structions. The King of Phaenicia sent the Princes his sons, Cleanthus and me to a very fair house, where we liv'd a long time. Afterwards we return'd to Court, but without any liberty, and liv'd there in that manner till the death of the King of Phaenicia. After which the Prince his son who reigns at this day to reward Cleanthus for the services render'd him, gave him leave to bring me back hither on condition that he would return again to him. To which pur∣pose having given us a vessel to return, we made use of it to go into Greece, to the end to follow your in∣tention that I should see that Country. After which being embarqu'd at Corinth, and our ship joyning with another Merchant ship that was bound for the same place with us, it hapned unfortunately one day, that Cleanthus going one morning into that Ship to visit the Commander of it who was sick, a sudden tempest arising, seperated us in such sort, that we could never come together, or so much as see one ano∣ther more; but I landed at the Port nearest to this place, where I hope Cleanthus too will in a short time arrive. Artemidorus having done speaking the Princess of Leontium made him a thousand ca∣resses: but after this told him it was requisite to defer making this discovery to the Prince his bro∣ther until Cleanthus were arriv'd. For whereas (ad∣ded she) we have different sentiments in many things, I should be glad that your acknowledgement depended not upon my testimony alone, but that Cle∣anthus who is reputed for a man of eminent honesty, confirm it. As you please, Madam (answer'd Artemi∣dorus) but I remember so many particular things which my brother said to me during my childhood, that I believe he cannot have forgot them all. Be∣lieve me, Artemidorus (reply'd the Princess) do not trust to his memory, and let us wait for Cleanthus. But, Madam (said Artemidorus) if Cleanthus had suf∣fer'd shipwrack, it would have been necessary to have dispens'd with his absence. Were that his misfortune hapned (answer'd she) we might then do all that we can do at this day. After this, Artemidorus desir'd permission of the Princess of Leontium, at least to make himself known to Lysimena; and accordingly with∣out more delay the Princess writ three or four lines in her Tablets, which she gave Artemidorus to deliver to her. Upon which he went to find Lysimena, and beseeching her that he might speak to her without being heard by any other, the Princess withdrew into her Cabinet, where he deliver'd the Tablets to her, in which she sound these words.

He that you see, is Artemidorus, who you have so often beheld me lament; love him as a good sister ought to love a brother, and disco∣ver this great secret to none.

At first Lysimena knew not whether she ought to believe what she read: but Artemidorus spoke to her after a manner so full of tenderness, that on a sudden suffering her self to be convinc'd, she embrac'd the Prince her brother with all the testimonies of joy and dearness imaginable, and express'd her self with so much the greater passion: because at that instant she look'd upon Artemidorus as a Protector that might oppose the violence the Prince her brother intended to use towards her, to constrain her to marry Meleon∣tus. The door of her Cabinet hapning to be open, a Waiting-woman belonging to the Princess whom Meleontus had corrupted, beheld the caresses she made to Artemidorus, which nevertheless she attributed to the service which she had receiv'd from him. After which Artemidorus forbad his attendants to tell his name to any person, and liv'd as a stranger unknown in the Castle. But Lysimena who did me the honour to keep nothing secret from me, told me what had pass'd and ask'd my counsel whether she should write to Ze∣nocrates concerning it. Because I knew Letters are liable to a thousand accidents, I told her that I coun∣sell'd her not only not to write him word of it, but also judge it prudence not to tell him any thing of it, altho he should come thither with the Prince; and that it were better he knew it not, but with others, for fear least not being able to contain from giving some intimation of it, it might prove prejudicial to the owning of Artemidorus. And the Princess was satisfi'd with my advice. In the mean time, the ru∣mour of the accident that had befallen her, and the succour she receiv'd from astranger, was soon known to all the world. The Prince of Leontium being a lit∣tle wounded at his last hunting could not make a vi∣sit to the Princess his sister upon this occasion, but out of favour to Meleontus, he sent him to do it: so that Zenocrates had the discontent to see his Rival go to vi∣sit Lysimena, without daring to follow him. Artemido∣rus being an extreme goodly personage, Meleontus no sooner beheld him but he was troubled that Lysime∣na had had a protector of so admirable an aspect. But this first sentiment made no great impression in him, but soon pass'd out of his mind. For he fell to extol Artemidorus, and thanked him in the name of the Prince and his own, for the assistance he had given the Princess. Artemidorus answer'd to all that Me∣leontus said to him with so noble and gallant an air, that this Lover of Lysimena was astonish'd at it: but he was more so, when having dis∣cours'd half a quarter of an hour in a walk of the Garden with the Waiting-woman whom he had gain'd to his interests, he understood by her that since the four days this stranger was in the Castle, he had al∣most

continually have been in particular converse with Lysimena, or with me: she related to him also how she saw the Princess imbrace him with tender∣ness; and told him she had never seen so great an af∣fection in any person; that as soon as the Princess a∣waken'd, she sent to know of the stranger's health, that he saw her dress her self, and was in her Chamber till she was ready to go into bed. And in∣deed, tho I was opinion that it was requisite to use greater dissimulation, yet Lysimena would not believe me, being secure, in that there was none but her own attendants, and those of the Princess of Leontium in the Castle. This discourse produc'd strange senti∣ments in Meleontus's mind, who knew not what to think of it. However he resolv'd to remove this stranger from Lysimena, and to propound it to the Princess of Leontium to conduct him to the Prince, but she told him she would do it her self when she re∣turn'd to Leontium, and that in the mean time, the stranger would expect the arrival of his Attendants and equipage in the Castle. Meleontus press'd her for some time: but perceiving it was to no purpose, he ceas'd his importunity, and return'd back with a great disposition to be jealous. At his return he open'd his heart to Amerintha, who promis'd him to come to us, and to observe all Lysimena's actions so diligently, and those of the stranger too, that she doubted not but to discover the truth. And accordingly Amerintha came to visit the Princess of Leontium upon pretext of the adventure lately befallen Lysimena: but for that some time was needful for attaining the real end she came for, she feign'd her self sick as soon as she arriv'd and stay'd four days with us. During which, having a cunning and malicious wit, she observ'd there was a great friendship between Artemidorus and Lysimena. She perceiv'd their familiarity, correspondence, and something more liberty and equality between them, than ought to be between a stranger and a Princess. Nevertheless Artemidorus very much pleas'd her, and out of a desire that nothing should escape her beauty, she did her utmost to excite him to love: but the heart of Artemidorus was not dispos'd to be wounded by her fair eyes. Besides, this Prince having under∣stood by Lysimena that the Prince of Leontium was ex∣tremely amorous of Amerintha, he was careful to de∣fend himself from her charms. Wherefore Amerin∣tha, finding her allurements had not the effect she de∣sired, imagin'd the reason of it to be because he was already amorous of Lysimena. Which exasperating her mind, she observ'd the Princess with more diligence, she put an ill construction upon all that she saw, she believ'd she beheld more than she did; and resolv'd also to report many things which she was sure she had not seen. So that at her return she told Meleontus, she found that the stranger was a very handsome and goodly personage, and was in love with Lysimena; adding moreover that she much fear'd Lysimena was so likewise with him. She related to him that she had discover'd that they were very frequently in private together, that in the morning he had liberty to enter into her Chamber, that he was there very late in the evening, that they understood one another by their looks, that they had a hundred little secrets to com∣municate between themselves; and she added of her own inventing, that walking in the Garden with them, at the turning of a palissade, she saw the stran∣ger kiss Lysimena's hand without her being offended at it. You may judge what effect this relation had in the heart of Meleontus. It was such, that jealousie seising upon his mind, and his violent nature being very prone to put him upon attempting the most im∣portant things precipitantly, he oblig'd Amerintha to inform the Prince of all that she had told to himself, promising her to do thence forward all that lay in his power to bring her to be Princess of Leontium. Ame∣rintha (who was possess'd with ambition, envy and hatred) easily suffer'd her self to be perswaded, and related to the Prince of Leontium all that she had said to his favourite: which he no sooner heard, but he conceiv'd a violent indignation against Lysimena, and without considering upon the matter resolv'd to go speedily to the Castle where his Mother was, to the end to cause the stranger to remove from thence. And accordingly having consulted with Meleontus, they set forth about break of day, the Prince being then absolutely cur'd. He took only his guards with him and eight or nine men of quality, amongst whom Ze∣nocrates was one, who was not without some inquie∣tude in his breast, for the comely person, wit and va∣lour of the Stranger was highly extoll'd in the Court at that time. But as chance does very extraordinary things when Fate has determin'd to bring some sur∣prising accident to pass; it hapned that the Princess of Leontium was gone that morning to offer a Sacri∣fice to Diana in a Temple about five or six miles di∣stant from the Castle: Lysimena hapning to be a little indispos'd in the preceding night, did not accompany her, no more did Artemidorus; and I likewise remain'd at home to bear Lysimena company. But almost all the rest of the family follow'd the Princess, and there was very few persons left in the house. As soon as Ly∣simena was out of bed, her Woman began to attire her head; but the tresses of her hair were scarce undone, when Artemidorus enter'd into her Chamber to shew her a Letter from the wise Cleanthus which he had newly receiv'd, whereby he understood that he would arrive suddenly, and perhaps that very day. The Prin∣cess being unwilling to read it before her Woman, she did not continue to dress her head, but went into her Cabinet with Artemidorus. And there passing insensibly to speak of several things, the Princess forgot she was not attir'd, and stay'd discoursing a long time with the Prince her brother. During which, that Waiting∣woman who had intelligence with Meleontus, left her companions to wait till the Princess came out of her Cabinet, and went to walk beyond the first Court of the Castle, where there is one of the fairest Walks, that ever was seen. As for me, I was than in my Chamber leaning upon a window that lookt towards one of the handsomest Courts in the World; for 'tis large, square, all pav'd with white Marble, environ'd with stately structures, and has a Pedestal in the middle, up∣on which are represented the three Graces, holding one another by the hand like Shepherdesses dan∣cing; but made with such exquisite art, that these three Statues are an admirable spectacle in the midst of that fair Court. Having mus'd a while at my Chamber window, as I told you, I retir'd from it, and betook my self to read. In the mean time the Waiting-woman, whom (as I mention'd to you) went to walk beyond this stately Court, was no soo∣ner there but she saw the Prince and Meleontus arrive, the latter of which came directly to her to enquire what the Princess was doing, and to hinder her from going to advertise her of the Prince's coming. The Woman telling him the truth, inform'd him that the Princess of Leontium was gone abroad in the morning, and that the Princess. Lysimena, who would

not accompany her, as soon as she was out of bed, went with her head half dress'd into her Cabinet with Arte∣midorus, where she believ'd they were still in great fa∣miliarity and conference. Meleontus no sooner heard this, but returning to the Prince and telling him what he had learnt, and animating him against his Sister, without considering what hurley-burly he was going to cause, or what the consequences of the course he took would be, he commanded his Guards to secure all the Gates of the first Court. After which the Prince of Leontium enter'd into that stately Court, and went directly to the stone stairs leading into the Castle. But for that this could not be done without some noise, the Princess being advertis'd of his arri∣val, spoke to Artemidorus to go forth of her Chamber and meet the Prince, to whom Meleontus (who had seen him before) might present him. For since Cleanthus is to arrive suddenly (said she) it is not yet fitting to think of making your self known, e∣specially too, the Princess my Mother being absent. Accordingly Artemidorus passing through an Anti∣chamber went into the Court; but the Prince con∣jecturing by the place he came out at that the Prin∣cesse's Waiting-woman had not ly'd, and himself having seen at the windows of her Cabinet (for Lysi∣mena's apartment was next the ground) with what haste she caus'd this man of good personage to come forth, he did not doubt but she was very culpable, and that the affection she had for him was criminal. Upon which, without considering any thing but his desire to punish the Princess and satisfie Meleontus; as soon as Artemidorus was in the Court, he look'd upon the violent Meleontus, who transported with choler, jealousie and fury, My Lord (said he to the Prince) permit me to punish the boldness of this Stranger who comes insolently to affront you. If you knew me well (answer'd Artemidorus without being mov'd) you would find it rather belong'd to me to desire justice of the Prince for your insolence. Whereupon the Prince of Leontium becoming suddenly enrag'd, and believing the Stranger intended to counterfeit himself a man of quality, that he might save his life, roughly command∣ed his Guards to seise upon him. After which he went towards the entrance, follow'd by Meleontus, Zeno∣crates and many others. Artemidorus desir'd to speak to him, but he was not heard: so that seeing several of the Princes Guards with their swords drawn about him, he was no longer master of his indignation, and could not contain from drawing his sword, and dis∣persing them so dextrously, that one of the Guards running himself upon Artemidorus's sword, fell down dead immediately. The rest thereupon making a great cry, and all pressing hard upon him, he recover'd the Pedestal upon which the three Graces stood, to the end he might not be surrounded or assaulted on any side but before. The Guards made a great cry again, which causing me to give over my reading, I lookt out at the window and beheld the most sad spectacle in the world, for the pavement of white Marble was sprinkl'd with bloud in many places, Artemidorus had slain two more of the Guards, whose bodies lay at the feet of this valiant Prince, who defended himself like a Lyon. Presently after, all the Guards that were left at the Gates, quitted their stations to come and revenge the death of their companions. Meleontus, Zenocrates and all the rest, and the Prince himself return'd back to the stairs of the enterance, astonish'd at the valour of this man who defended himself so couragiously, and im∣mediately stew a Brother of Meleontus that advanc'd a∣gainst him. Yet it must be mention'd to the commen∣dation of Zenocrates, that tho jealousie was deeply im∣prest in his mind, yet he extremely disapprov'd this vi∣olence, and told his sentiments to the Prince: but he would not hearken to them. All this while whatever Artemidorus, said to make himself known, was not re∣garded; he had no other recourse but to his own valor: which indeed was such, that none durst approach him; wherefore some of the Guards without the Prince's or∣der shot arrows against him, and others cast javelins, tho the Prince and Zenocrates endeavour'd to restrain them. As for Meleontus, his fury was so impetuous, that he wish'd nothing but the death of Artemidorus, believ∣ing he was his Rival, and a greater Favourite. For my part, I confess to my shame, I was in so great amaze∣ment, and seis'd with such excessive fright, that I was unable either to speak or stir from the place. The Princess was more valiant than I, for when she saw so many swords turn'd against Artemidorus (who was slightly wounded in the left hand) so many arrows shot at him, and none heard what he said: seeing, I say that tho by his dexterity, courage and agility, he re∣pell'd all that set upon him (who durst not approach nearer to him than as far as the bodies of those he had slain) yet it would be impossible for him to avoid be∣ing overcome at length; she went forth with extreme diligence as soon as she was return'd from her first a∣stonishment, and without considering that she had no∣thing upon her but a plain flying robe of white stuffe, that her neck was half naked, her hair loose, and her arms bare, she pass'd through the porch into the midst of all the armed people, endangering her self to be wounded with the arrows and javelins, and by her rare beauty shaming the Graces, at the feet of whom Arte∣midorus defended his life so valiantly, she plac'd her self between this valiant Prince and those that assaulted him, desiring by this generous action to cause the fight to cease, and to make Artemidorus known to the Prince his Brother. And indeed all the fierce assailants suspen∣ded their fury at her appearance: but for that this ac∣tion was interpreted by the Prince, Meleontus and Zeno∣crates for a great testimony of love towards Artemidorus, it produc'd in them very different effects. The Prince redoubling his fury, Infamous Sister (cry'd he) do you come to defend your unworthy Lover in my sight? I shall punish you for your wickedness. At which he ad∣vanc'd towards her with with his sword drawn, and had infallibly kill'd her, if the amorus Zenocrates (as jealous as he was) had not out of an excess of love cast himself between the Prince and Lysimena. Artemidorus also offer'd to doe the same; but at the very moment, Meleontus (whose jealousie and fury was redoubled by the generous action of the Princess) took a bow from the hands of an Archer, and shot with precipitation: but instead of killing Artemidorus as he design'd, he wounded Lysimena dangerously in the neck, and the same arrow glancing from her unhappily, enter'd into the body of Zenocrates (for Meleontus shot from the right side to the left) upon which both of them falling down, Lysimena resented the most violent grief that ever was, for she saw her self no longer able to hinder Artemidorus from perishing by the hands of her Brother: she saw her dear Zenocrates wounded for her sake, and understood by some words which he spoke as he fell, that he sus∣pected her of being unfaithful. On the other side, Arte∣midorus being transported with grief to see Lysimena wounded, without caring to defend himself, offer'd to lift up the Princess: but the jealous Meleontus en∣rag'd for having wounded his Mistress and Zenocrates

(whom he now consider'd not as his Rival) instead of Artemidorus, did his endeavour to kill this valiant and generous Prince. But at the same instant the Prin∣cess of Leontium coming back from the Temple of Diana on the one side with all her train, and the wise Cleanthus arriving on the other, suppress'd the fury of the tumult. You may judge how astonisht the Princess of Leontium was to find the Prince and Meleontus with their swords drawn, so many people slain, Artemido∣rus wounded, and Zenocrates and Lysimena at the point of death, for the loss of bloud depriv'd them both of speech. As for Cleanthus, as soon as he appear'd and beheld this strange spectacle, he went directly to the Prince, and speaking to him with the authority of one that had instructed him in his youth. How comes it, my Lord (said he to him) that I find you with your arms in your hand against the Prince Arte∣midorus your Brother? These words caus'd the Prince to blush, and Meleontus to wax pale, who was ap∣proacht whilst Artemidorus having broken through the throng went to give the Princess his Mother an ac∣count of what had hapned. The speech of Cleanthus, whom the Prince knew very well, strangely astonisht him; for he was conscious there was no ground to suspect his probity. Nevertheless not being able to resolve suddenly to believe him, How? (said he) is he that I behold my Brother? and is that Brother my Sister's Lover? No, my Lord (answer'd Artemidorus, who led the Princess his Mother) and if you would have heard me, you had not done as you have, nor enforc'd me to kill those unhappy persons whom I I knew not. Ah! my Son (cry'd the Princess of Le∣ontium, speaking to the Prince) I cannot but accuse you of a great crime, and regret my own unhappi∣ness. However (added she) leave me in peace in this desert, endeavour to save my Daughter's life, and be assuredly perswaded Artemidorus is your Brother. He made himself known to me first of all; your Sister understood his quality from my mouth; and had it not been that I waited for the arrival of Cleanthus you had been informed of the truth before. Then Cleanthus ad∣ding many circumstances for the conformation of his being Son to the Princess of Leontium, the Prince better consider'd him, & acknowledg'd him to be his brother; and thereupon being much ashamed of his action, he desir'd pardon of him for it. My Lord (answer'd Arte∣midorus) I am ready to forget the injury you have done me; but I beseech you that he who wounded the Prin∣cess my Sister, may appear no longer in my sight; other∣wise, all the respect I bear you cannot hinder me from punishing him for so detestable an action. In the mean time, I being descended, approacht to the Prin∣cess, and fell upon my knees by her, endeavouring to bring her to her self again. Meleontus was at his wits end for what he had done, and came to help me to hold her up; but as I was going to thrust him away, he heard what Artemidorus spoke: upon which his rage being redoubled, You have reason, my Lord (said he to him) you have reason; and to testifie to you that I judge my self as culpable as unhappy, behold what a generous repentance shall lead me to. In speaking which, he offer'd to strike a Ponyard into his own heart; but the Prince (who lov'd him much) abating part of his impetuosity by seising upon his arm, the Ponyard did not pierce so deep as he design'd it; but yet it did enough, to cause some compassion even in him whom he had desir'd to kill.

The Princess having caus'd Lysimena to be carried to a bed, and given order for care to be taken of Ze∣nocrates, and the dead to be remov'd out of the Court, the Prince committed Meleontus to the custody of three or four of his followers, and caus'd him to be con∣ducted into a back Garden-house, notwithstanding all his own resistance; for he was resolv'd to dy, and would by no means admit of any course to preserve his life. In the mean time, Cleanthus discoursing with the Prince, and employing all his prudence to perswade him that Artemidorus would remember nothing that had pass'd, reduc'd his mind to a good temper, and counsell'd him to return that evening to Leontium, and to carry thither him that designing to kill Arte∣midorus wounded Lysimena, till this first disorder were compos'd, and it were seen what would become of Lysimena's and Zenocrates's wounds; for, as for the Prince Artemidorus, that which he had received in his left hand, was very slight. So the Prince fol∣lowing the counsels of the wise Cleanthus (for whom he still retain'd much respect) departed assoon as he understood Lysimena was come again from her swoon, and caus'd Meleontus to be put into a Chariot, having first caus'd his wound to be dress'd by force, leaving Cleanthus order to tell the Princess his Mother, the Prince Artemidorus and Lysimena, all that he judg'd conducive to appease their minds; tho to speak truth, this Prince thought himself guilty of nothing but precipitancy. And as for the action of Meleon∣tus, he consider'd it as a violence which love and jea∣lousie might excuse. But Meleontus himself was more equitable, for he accus'd himself in good earnest. How unhappy am I (said he upon the waies he re∣turn'd, to one of his own and my friends, who told me this) and how great a Criminal! I have commit∣ted all crimes imaginable, I have rashly suspected the most virtuous Princess in the World, I have accus'd her, I have incens'd the Prince's mind against her, I have put fury into his heart, and weapons in his hand against the Prince his Brother, & the Princess his sister; and wretch that I am, after that I had seen Artemidorus perform the greatest actions in the world, I went a∣bout to kill him with the shot of an Arrow. But more∣over, the Gods to punish me for it, have permitted that unfortunate Arrow to wound mortally both an innocent friend, and the only person for whose sake life could be acceptable to me. And neverthe∣less, they will not let me dye, they force me to live, they keep me too, as if I still deserv'd, that any care should be taken of my life. But 'tis in vain (added he) that I am watcht, and that every thing which might procure my death is remov'd from me; I need neither steel nor poyson; my grief alone will be suf∣ficient to dispatch me. For when I reflect, that I am he who have brought my Princess into danger, and that in attempting to kill a man whom I believ'd my Rival, perhaps I have slain my Mistress; I resent a torment a thousand times more cruel than death, a torment greater than can be apprehended, and which I cannot wholly conceive my self; since at the same time I am overwhelmed with shame, repen∣tance, grief, and abhorrence of my self, as much love as is needful to render my fault for ever unpardona∣ble, and as much rage as is necessary to make life odi∣ous, and death desirable every moment. Besides, what have I to do longer in the World? the Princess did not love me, whilst I did nothing but studied to serve her; judge therefore, what sentiments she will have, if she escapes, for a man that would have blemished her honour, taken the Prince Ar∣temidorus's life away after an unworthy manner,

and who has endanger'd her own? Had I gone a∣bout to kill this Prince, as a man of courage may kill an Enemy, it would be more pardonable, but jealou∣sie so transported me, when I beheld Lysimena hazard her life to save that of a man whom I believ'd my Ri∣val, that in that accursed moment I abandon'd my reason, and cast off all sense of virtue and honour, to mind only a speedy revenge. But alass! the Gods have already reveng'd the cause of Lysimena; for I hate my self so horribly, that I never had a more ardent affection for her than I have now detestation for my self. In this manner reasoned the unfortunate Meleon∣tus, whilst the wise Cleanthus endeavour'd to pacifie matters at the Castle, where he stay'd.

Cleanthus (said Plotina interrupting Amiclea) has done me a pleasure in arriving, and I should be glad to know a person who has so excellently educated the Prince Artemidorus. For my part (said Clelia) I fancy him to be like one of the Sages that are so much spoken of. For I have heard him so extoll'd by Merigenes, the young King of Phaenicia, and the Prince his brother, whom he instructed, that I imagine him to be a very excellent person.

To testifie the submission of my will to yours (an∣swer'd Amiclea) I shall describe him to you, and in∣deed I am something of such an humour, that I am loath to pass over my Friends without commending them a little, when I speak to persons that do not know them; and I conceive generosity requires as much from all people, and that there is some pleasure, when we are alone to remember we have done justice to our friends when they were mention'd.

I beseech you (said Plotina) let us speak of Clean∣thus, and leave the pleasures that we find in our selvs; for, as for my part, I am perswaded they are the sad∣dest pleasures in the world. Yet they are the most so∣lid (answer'd Clelia). Believe me (added Plotina a∣greeably) solidity is not to be requir'd in pleasures; 'tis sufficient if they be sprightly and jovial, if they da∣zle reason, and follow one after another, if they be various and deceive us, and amuse us agreeably; and to put the thing in practise, after having had the plea∣sure to relieve my self from a long silence by what I have said, tell us, amiable Amiclea, what a person the wise Cleanthus is.

Know than (reply'd Amiclea) he whose description you desire, is a man of transcendent merit, and his e∣minent vertue has plac'd him above envy and the envious. His lineage is very good, and it would be easie to find wherewith to commend him in many things which are extrinsical to him: but not to speak of ought but himself, I shall content my self with tel∣ling you, that tho Cleanthus be arriv'd to that age, wherein time is wont to efface part of the lineaments that compose handsomeness in a face, yet he has still a serene aspect full of spirit and sweetness which pleases infinitely. His eyes partly discover his wis∣dom and goodness; and tho he is not tall, yet he has a good personage, and the absolute air of a Phylosopher that practices more vertue than he teaches. There ap∣pears so modest a joy in his converse, so prudent a complacency in all his discourse, and a goodness so real in all his actions, that his conversation begets a love of vertue in all that are capable of it. Moreover, he has been chosen (as I told you before) to instruct two of the greatest-Princes in the World in several considerable kinds of knowledge, besides the Prince of Leontium and Artemidorus. He has all his life so passionately lov'd study, that it may be said, he never spent day without learning something: so that he has compos'd an infinite number of excellent works, which are indubitable testimonies of his knowledge and vertue. For there is scarce any thing of which he has not written plausibly, with intention to profit the publick, and render the Readers of his works, ei∣ther better or more knowing; which in my judge∣ment is a very great commendation. But tho Cleanthus be very learned, and his works, deserve to live im∣mortally, yet I admire his vertue more than his know∣ledge, especially having preserv'd it immaculate in the midst of a great Court, where for the most part, such as are most vertuous find it something difficult to persist exactly in the purity of their own senti∣ments. But, as for Cleanthus, nothing changes him, he is so solidly vertuous: but his vertue is sociable, far from asperity or savageness, which perswades rather by sweetness than impetuosity, and which by the calm∣ness of his mind renders it sufficiently manifest appa∣rent, that he has been a long and happier Studier of Wisdom; for he is none of those who know vertue without following it, and teach the vertues which they never practice. On the contrary, Cleanthus speaks more morality by his actions than his discourses, and in∣structs no less by his manners than by works. Thus you see what a person the wise Cleanthus is, whose presence calm'd so great a tempest.

But to proceed, as soon as the Princess came out of her swoon, she thought upon Artemidorus & Zenocrates, and seeing me in her chamber with tears in my eies, she call'd me as weak as she was, and (tho her wound sufficiently pain'd her) stretcht forth her hand to me, and grasping mine gently, I beseech you, my dear A∣miclea (said she to me, beholding me wishly) tell me whether the tears you shed be for Artemidorus, or for the unfortunate Zenocrates. The Prince Artemidorus an∣swer'd I) is so little hurt, that he feels no wound but yours! and as for Zenocrates, I know not yet what the Chirurgions say of him: so that, Madam, my tears are only for your self. Since my life is so dear to you (re∣ply'd she with a lower voice) take some care of that of Zenocrates, and let me know what condition he is in. Whereupon soon after I understood that his wound was dangerous indeed, but yet not desperate. As for the Princess, she was in very great danger, because she was taken with a Fever. Zenocrates greatest affliction was occasion'd, for that no person, except my self, know∣ing the love he had for Lysimena, he was told of the danger in which she was. By which means his weak∣ness became greater than it would if he had been ig∣norant of that of Lysimena. As for Artemidorus, he had so tender a friendship for her, that he could not have been much more afflicted if he had been her Lover; and as we are easily led to love such as have been willing to serve those whom we love, this Prince had likewise in a little time a very great friendship for Zenocrates, who so generously oppos'd the violence of the Prince of Leontium, and was wounded with the same stroke that hurt the Princess. Zenocrates knowing I was not ignorant of his love, us'd to me the most moving and passionate expressions in the world as often as I went to visit him from the Princess. Whose vertue (on the other side) I assure you I could not but admire in this occasion, for tho she believ'd she should dy, yet she al∣ways preserv'd the same prudence, and did not speak one word which she ought to repent of: she talk'd with me concerning Zenocrates always with expressi∣ons of great dearness, but yet it was with such cau∣tion too, that what she said might as well agree to an

amiable Friend as a faithful Lover. But at length Lysimena's youth overcoming the greatness of her di∣stemper, her Physicians one day assur'd she was past all danger of death! of which Artemidorus trans∣ported with joy went to inform Zenocrates, who re∣ceiv'd this good news with so much delight, that the Prince perceiv'd he was amorous of Lysimena. But he was rather glad than displeased at it; for he hated Meleontus, and knowing Zenocrates was descended from the ancient Princes of Berbesa (altho his rank was now inferiour to that of his Ancestors) he was not sorry that so worthy a man lov'd the Princess his Sister, judging too, that this might rather hinder him from pardoning Meleontus. This discovery exciting the Prince to a curiosity of knowing Lysimena's senti∣ments as well, one day when she was able to suffer his conversation, he began to glibe at her a little about Zenocrates, whose life, he said, she had almost endanger'd. The Princess blusht when Artemidorus spoke thus to her; wherefore fearing he had dis∣pleas'd her, I beseech you (said he to her) do not think I speak to you as the Prince my brother would do, namely, with a design to persecute you; No, my dear sister (added he) I have more equitable senti∣ments, I speak to you as a faithful Friend, and desire not to know your thoughts, for any other end, but to conform my self to them; for I know you love glory, and are uncapable of loving any thing without it. My Lord (said the Princess than to him, recollecting her self) to testifie to you that I consider you more as a faithful friend than a generous brother, I will make you privy to the only secret of my life, and confess to you, that if I did not take care to rule the sentiments of my heart, I should have as great inclination for Zenocrates as I have aversion for Meleontus. But for as much as I foresee fortune cannot permit us to live to∣gether, I speak to him always as an agreeable Friend, and I forbid him to hope any such thing as a Lover might pretend to, beyond a certain free and uninte∣rested kindness, which I cannot refuse him. This, my Lord, is the onely secret of my life, use it as you please; and if you find me Criminal, you will do me a pleasure in telling me so, to the end I may endea∣vour to correct my fault. This freedom so extreme∣ly pleas'd Artemidorus, that he gave her a thousand thanks; he approv'd all her sentiments, and there became such an intimate and confiding a friendship between them, as will last all their lives. Afterwards Artemidorus with the Princesse's consent intimated to Zenocrates that he understood his affection; which produc'd in a few dayes a very strait amity between these three persons, who moreover had such an e∣steem of me as to communicate to me all their senti∣ments. In the mean time Cleanthus found it a matter of difficulty to compose matters; for the Prince lov∣ing Meleontus dearly, urg'd that Lysimena and Artemi∣dorus would pardon him: these two persons on the contrary could not yield to see a man who had com∣mitted an action likely to prove so fatal to them. Nor could the Princess their Mother be brought to con∣sent to return to Leontium as long as he was there, and desir'd that the Prince would banish him for ever. But Amerintha, whom the Prince was amorous of, pro∣tecting Meleontus, there was no obtaining of what she requir'd. So Cleanthus made frequent journies from the Castle where we were to Leontium, and from Le∣ontium to the Castle to no purpose. All this while Me∣leontus was under a guard, tho it was more to hinder attempts upon his life then to satisfie Lysimena and Artemidorus. At length the Princess being recover'd from her sickness, became able to walk in the Gardens of the Castle, which are indeed admirably handsome. As soon as she was in a condition to see the world, all the chief Ladies of Leontium came to visit her, and Clidamira (whom you know) amongst others came thither with one of her Kinswomen. It hapned that Artemidorus accounted her so amiable that day, that he began to be possest with the passion which occasion'd all the adventures I know you have heard of. And therefore I shall tell you scarce any thing of it, but on∣ly that one day she came with Andromira and several other Ladies who stay'd to pass that night with us. Towards the evening the Princess and the Ladies went to walk in the Gardens, and Amerintha so brought it about that her self discours'd with Artemi∣dorus, Andromira entertain'd Zenocrates (tho he did not much desire it) another Lady imploy'd her self in re∣counting to me a hundred things which did not con∣cern me; and in the mean time one of her friends, who is as crafty a person as any in the world, led the Princess insensibly into a walk, at the end of which was a Pavilion that had a door opening into the fields. The further end of the place was set about with seats, in which to repose without the inconvenience of the Sun, or being seen of any that walk in the Garden, (tho it be wholly open on the side towards the end of the Walk), because there are great curtains be∣fore it which may be drawn at pleasure. The Princess having unwillingly suffered her self to be conducted into this Cabinet, beheld the Curtains half drawn, and observ'd that the gate looking into the fields half shut: but making no reflections upon these two cir∣cumstances, which might proceed from several causes she enter'd into the Cabinet without minding that the Lady did not follow her into it, but was gone back into the Walk. She had scarce made three steps in it, but she beheld Meleontus at her feet, who holding her by the Robe; notwithstanding her reluctancy forc'd her to hearken to him; for she being still weak by her late sickness, and astonishment redoubling her weakness, she was constrain'd to sit down for fear of falling. At which instant she was in a fear lest Meleon∣tus intended to carry her away, and therefore made a great shreek: which nevertheless was not heard by any person, because the company was all in ano∣ther Walk, where she that was Meleontus's Agent knew well her Friends would upon handsome pre∣tences retain them. Wherefore Meleontus not to lose an opportunity he could not easily recover, being up∣on his knees before the Princess who was sat down, began to speak to her with a strange commotion of heart: I beseech you, Madam, (said he to her extream submissively) hear the unfortunate Meleontus this last time; which certainly you ought to do, Madam, since he does not pretend to obtain the pardon which he desires of you with tears in his eyes. The unfor∣tunate Meleontus (answer'd the Princess) is so crimi∣nal, that there are no misfortunes of which he is not worthy. I acknowledge it, Madam (reply'd he hastily) and I took the liberty of coming hither for no other end but to confess it. How dare you, Meleontus (said the Princess) come to present your self before me, after you have believ'd me capable of a crime? for in comparison of this, I count it almost no∣thing that you wounded me neer to death. But to speak truth, I resent most of all, that you went about to kill the Prince my Brother af∣ter the most unworthy manner in the World.

Ah! Madam (answer'd Meleontus) when I saw you so fair, and so charming pass amongst the swords and the arrows with contempt of the danger to save the life of a man whom I believ'd my Rival, and thought was lov'd by you, I resented that which I am unable to express; and in this case I must have been void of love, if I could have preserv'd respect and generosi∣ty. I confess therefore, that I minded only to kill him whom I believ'd your Lover; and if Zenocrates had been still amorous of you, he would questionless have done the same that I did. Be it how it will (said she) I am well enough pleas'd with Zenocrates, but I am not so with you. Alas! Madam (answered Meleontus) How can you, since I am not so my self, but on the contrary am my own most mortal Enemy? Yes, Madam, I hate my self more than you hate me, and I have at this present such remorse for my vio∣lence, and such respect for you, that I dare not dye here before your eyes, for fear the Prince who loves me should reproach you with my death. Know there∣fore, Madam, that perceiving the division which I cause between the Prince of Leontium, the Prince Artemidorus, and your self, I am resolv'd to put an end to that contest by my flight. To which purpose, I have suborn'd my Guards, whilst the Prince is at hunting, and by ways which I need not tell you, am come into this Garden, to assure you here, that I will go seek death in some place so remote from Leontium, that no tidings shall ever be heard of me. I will al∣so leave the name which I bear, to the end it may be no more distasteful to you, and retaining all the love I have for you, I will live the most miserable of men, whithersoever I go, if at least I have strength enough to live any time longer, only to adore you. Meleontus spoke this so passionately, that the Prin∣cess told me all her hatred and indignation could not hinder her from having a little commiseration of him. Nevertheless, she conceal'd it, for fear he should alter his purpose; and therefore speaking to him with a se∣vere air, After bad actions are committed (said she to him) 'tis not enough to speak fine words; a long repentance, a long absence, and a thousand services are requisite to the producing of a reasonable hope of being indur'd amongst persons of honour. Howso∣ever, since I am equitable, I commend the design you take, as that alone which is fitting for you. Go there∣fore, Meleontus, go (continu'd she, rising up) go ask pardon of the Gods; for, as for me, I should delude you if I should tell you that I pardon you. I have already told you (answer'd the afflicted Mele∣ontus) that I did not hope to obtain the pardon which I desir'd; but at least grant me the favour to believe that the excess of my love is the cause of all my Crimes, and that if I had lov'd you less, I had been always innocent. 'Tis the only and last favour I shall ever request of you, not daring to desire so much as a little compassion when you shall imagine that I am dead in exile only for love of you. As the Princess was going to speak something to him, Meleontus saw all the Company appear afar off, who (notwith∣standing all the contrivance of the Lady that return'd back to amuse them handsomely in the mean time) were seeking for the Princess, and could not longer want her presence. So that Meleontus being con∣strain'd to go away, rose up, and the Princess sud∣denly leaving him without speaking, he went forth at the door of the Pavilion which opened into the fields, mounted upon a Horse held ready for him by a slave, and lost himself in a wood not far distant. Yet this could not be done but that Zenocrates knew Me∣leontus. As for Artemidorus, he observ'd nothing, because he was speaking earnestly to Clidamira; and there was none but Zenocrates and my self who saw Meleontus. He no sooner perceiv'd him, but he chang'd colour, came to me, and looking upon me with somewhat a disturb'd countenance, What did I see? Amiclea, (said he) Did my eyes deceive me? Is it possible Meleontus could be where I believ'd I saw him? Has the Princess pardoned him? What think you of that which I know you perceiv'd as well as my self? In truth (said I to him) I know not what I ought to think of it, but I know well the Princess can never be unjust, and that her aspect tells me she is as much surpris'd as we. I beseech you, generous A∣miclea (replyed Zenocrates) know the truth of this Adventure, for the respect I bear the Princess withholds me from asking it of her. And accordingly approa∣ching towards Lysimena, she drew me aside, and did me the honour to tell me what had hapned. After which having called Artemidorus and Zenocrates, she related to them the same she had told me before. At first the departure of Meleontus seem'd very advan∣tageous; but afterwards considering the Prince would be afflicted at it, it was fear'd his displeasure would fall upon Lysimena, Artemidorus, or Zenocrates. How∣ever it was judg'd convenient to advertise the Princess of Leontium and Cleanthus of what had passed; and accordingly Lysimena ending her walk sooner than o∣therwise she would have done, return'd into the Castle. She was not long there, before there arriv'd a friend of Zenocrates, who came to advertise the Prin∣cess that Meleontus was gone away from the place where he was guarded without being known whither, that the Prince was extremely troubled at it, that this Favorite had left the most passionate Letter in the world for him, and that Amerintha was much imploy'd in comforting him. It was requisite therefore to have recourse to the prudence of Cleanthus who was at Le∣ontium, to the end to appease the Prince's mind whom he found very sad for the departure of Meleon∣tus. He found him also much incens'd against Lysi∣mena, whose rigour was the innocent cause of all these disorders: but at length Cleanthus telling him that the way to cause Meleontus to return, was to treat Lysimena well, and to endeavour thereby to win her, things were pacified in the end, in spite of the artifices of Amerintha. Yet this division extremely afflicted the Princess of Leontium, so that she fell sick and dyed within a few days after. Lysimena and Artemidorus were sensibly touch'd with this loss: but for the Prince of Leontium, he was not much afflicted at it, because he believ'd Lysimena would thereby be more absolutely in his power. Shortly after, Lysimena re∣turned to lodge in the Prince's Palace, and during some days led a life pleasant enough. Artemidorus at that time became perfectly amorous of Clidamira, which strangely incens'd Amerintha who could not touch his heart. Wherefore she obliged the Prince highly to disapprove the affection he had for that La∣dy; and it was she that prevail'd with him to cause her to be put amongst the vailed Virgins, as no doubt you have heard in the relation of the History of Artemi∣dorus. For she designed thereby to cross a Prince whom she did not love, and to serve Meleontus, with whom 'tis believ'd she has always had some secret corre∣spondence. For it was easie to judge that Artemido∣rus would not fail to fall out totally with the Prince after this violence, and so Lysimena would lose a

powerful protector. The event manifested that she was not deceiv'd; for you know Artemidorus volun∣tarily exil'd himself, to deliver Clidamira. But where∣as it is not his History that I am relating, and you are ignorant of nothing that befel him, I will not tell you of his departure, his shipwrack, the resolution he took to go to the War, and in what manner he be∣came prisoner to the Prince of Agrigentum, nor how he fell in love with Berelisa; but only what concerns Lysimena and Zenocrates. You shall know then, that after the departure of Artemidorus, Zenocrates (to continue to act according to his custom) made sem∣blance of being in love with Clidamira, as soon as she came out from amongst the vailed Virgins, that afterwards he made Courtship for some days to ano∣ther, but at length conceiving that since Meleontus was absent he might dispense with this dissimulation, he continued for some time without a Mistress. Whereupon it was said of him in railery, that of an in∣constant person he was become indifferent; and I re∣member, Clidamira, being one day with Lysimena, un∣dertook to maintain that it was much more honest to be inconstant than to be indifferent. For, I know no∣thing more hateful (said she in defence of her opi∣nion) than such people as neither love nor hate, who determine themselves to nothing, and have so luke∣warm a soul, that they are not very strongly on their own side. Ask them if they will walk; they know not: inquire of them, whether they would have people love them; they are dubious of it: do them any service; they take no notice of it: offer to dis∣please them; they scarce perceive it: so much are they afraid to disquiet their happy indifference. But as for inconstant persons (added she) they have always something to do; they go, they come, they are im∣ployed; and though they desire nothing vehemently, and disclaim obstinacy, yet they are always determin'd to something. They fill some place, and signifie some∣thing in the World, and at least make themselves to be spoken of, be it well or ill. 'Tis true (answer'd Lysimena) but if you observe, the indifferent and the inconstant are not too opposite. For an inconstant person loves indifferently all the Beauties of a City; 'tis only because he has some kind of indifference in his heart, that he loves several persons. And, for my part, methinks, I should love an indifferent person who is determin'd to nothing, better than an inconstant who determines himself to inconstancy, who makes a glory of his weakness, who believes he cannot be a gallant without being a profess'd shittle-brain, and who loving nothing ardently, yet passes all his life as if he lov'd. For the name of Love is not to be given to those transient affections which succeed one after another, which perplex hearts without possessing them; and which almost produce nothing but Son∣nets. The Princess spoke this with a certain air, which made Amerintha (who was present) suspect some∣thing; for she judg'd that Zenocrates appearing to be so much in her favour ought to take ill her arguing so strongly against inconstancy, if she believ'd him in∣constant. So that observing these things, and inquiring diligently of that waiting woman who formerly gave Meleontus intelligence of all Lysimena's actions, and whom the Princess had discarded; she came at length to discover that Zenocrates was always ar∣dently amorous of her, and that his inconstancy was but dissembled. And for as much as she could turn the Prince's mind after what manner she pleas'd, Lysimena was one morning extremely amazed to understand that the Prince had commanded Zenocrates to depart his Court at an hours warning, with prohibition to see her before he went away. You may judge how dis∣pleasing this news was to her, especially too being ad∣vertis'd that Meleontus had writ to the Prince two days before. So it behov'd Zenocrates to go from Le∣ontium without seeing the Princess; nevertheless, he came back thither the same night, conceal'd him∣self at the house of one of his Friends, and three days after contriv'd a way to speak with Lysimena by night in a Garden. Their conversation was the most pathetical in the World; for they saw no ground of hope ever to live happy. I know well (said Lysimena to him) That your descent is more illustrious than the Rank you hold at present is eminent. I know likewise that your merit sees nothing above it, and I will believe that your affection cannot be surpass'd by any other; but, when all is done, the Prince my Brother is extreme unjust and violent. He loves Meleontus whom I hate, and Artemidorus is not here; adde here∣unto that his Mistress hates us, and does us no less mis∣chief than his favourite. We have no Sanctuary in any place; and though we had, a sentiment of honour would not suffer me to wish we were there together. But, Madam (said Zenocrates) what then will you shall become of me? I would have you (answer'd she) endeavour to find Artemidorus, adhere to his fortune, and trust to my constancy. Alas! Madam (reply'd he) may an unfortunate absent person be assured of a thing which he ardently desires? Yes, Zenocrates (an∣swer'd Lysimena) when she that promises him is in∣du'd with generosity. But your self (added the Princess) take heed absence do not change you, and that I have not cause one day to make you a thousand reproaches. Time shall justifie me, Madam (said he to her) and you shall see me during all my life the same I am this day, that is, the most faithful Lover that ever was. Alas! Zenocrates (answer'd she) there was never an unfaithful Lover in the World, but a mo∣ment before his infidelity swore he would be eternally faithful; therefore answer nothing, and leave me to fear that which I cannot but be apprehensive of. Zeno∣crates then made a thousand the most earnest protesta∣tions of fidelity that can be imagined; after which he departed, and went first to Syracusa, and from thence to Agrigentum, where you know he found Ar∣temidorus, from whom he has ever since been insepara∣ble. During his stay there, he writ very diligently to Lysimena; but having made a long practise of appear∣ing inconstant, he was so accustomed when he was with a fair person, to use Courtship to her, that he did not change his manner. For when Clidamira was at Agri∣gentum, there were some days in which she was not un∣pleasing to him. And indeed Zenocrates is a little of the humor of those people who think an honest man cannot be call'd unfaithful, though he make some transitory Gallantries, and that the true Mistress ought to be contented, provided she be the chief La∣dy (to speak in their own terms) and that the Lover be always ready to Sacrifice the rest to her, when she knows it and requires it. So then without being scrupulous in his passion, he came to have something that seem'd like love for Clidamira. And this per∣son who has always lov'd to trouble the content∣ment of others (though she then lov'd Artemido∣rus who did not love her any longer) writ maliciously to Leontium to a Friend of hers, that Zenocrates had been very amorous of her, and would have been so still, if she had hearkned to him. Forasmuch

as she knew that she to whom she writ was no keeper of a secret, her design succeeded; the Princess soon heard of this news, which she the more deeply re∣sented, for that after the departure of Artemidorus, she had suffered a hundred persecutions from the Prince, who continually regretted the case of Mele∣ontus. Whereupon she complain'd to me with much tenderness; not that she did not believe Zenocrates always lov'd her, but she could not endure he should have any kindness or complacency for another. How unjust men are? (said she to me) They will have an intire heart, they are jealous of a shar'd glance, and nevertheless they take a liberty to divide themselves upon the least occasion that is presented; and I am perswaded they are ordinarily much more inconstant when they are lov'd, than whilst they only seek to have themselves lov'd: though nothing is more unreasona∣ble than to be less faithful to a person that loves you, than to one by whom you are not lov'd. Such were the sentiments of Lysimena; who being advertis'd that Meleontus was shortly to return, professed her self discontented with the World, and retired amongst the Veiled Virgins which are near Leontium, and I accompany'd her. The Prince was highly offended herewith, though he conceal'd his resentment; and causing Meleontus to hasten his return, this Favo∣rite soon after came again to Court, hoping that during the absence of Artemidorus he might obtain his pardon of Lysimena. But whereas at his taking leave of this Princess, he had spoken to her like a man that went to seek death, and was never to come again, he therefore writ to her at his return almost in these terms.

The unfortunate Meleontus to Lysimena.

IF you knew, Madam, all that I have done to dye of grief, you could not accuse me of living contrary to my word: for I have continually re∣membred your rigours, my Crimes and my infeli∣city. I have sighed, I have lamented, I have not had a moment of quiet, I have complained of you, and I have complained of my self; I have loved you, I have hated my self, and in brief, I have led the most miserable life in the World. But after all, Madam, I have not been able to dye absent from you; wherefore being perswaded Destiny would have me dye in the same place where I had the unhappiness to displease, and of∣fend you, I am returned hither to satisfie you. These, Madam, are the sentiments of the un∣fortunate Meleontus, who loves you more than he ever loved you, although he knows you hate him.

This Letter being very pathetical, I confess to you, though I was Zenocrates's Friend, I told the Princess, that sometimes it was requisite not to be too obstinate against fortune, that there were unhappinesses that could not be overcome otherwise than by yielding to them, and that perhaps she would not do very ill in pardoning Meleontus, yet without ingaging her self to any thing more. How? (answered Lysimena hastily) is it possible for me to lose the natural aversion I have always had for Meleontus? Can I forget that he has been guilty of the injustice to sus∣pect me of a weakness I cannot think of without hor∣ror? That he has been so unworthy as to go about to kill a man that was assaulted by above thirty, and whom he could not wound without endangering to kill me, as indeed he wounded me in such a manner that I lookt for nothing but death? What know I but that that he design'd to kill me as well as Artemidorus? No, no, Amiclea (said she to me) Meleontus shall always be hated by Lysimena, though even Zenocra∣tes should prove unfaithful. After this I durst urge the Princess no more. In the mean time the Prince of Leontium being urg'd by Amerintha, resolved to force Lysimena to marry Meleontus, and design'd to come and take her with Authority from amongst the Vailed Virgins, in whose number was a Kinswoman of the Prince of Perusia, who was shortly to be sent back into the Country of that Prince, there to establish a Temple and a covent of Virgins like this. Where∣fore the Princess (though her mind was exasperated against Zenocrates) seeing her self in danger to marry Meleontus or a perpetual prison (for she was adver∣tis'd that this was the design of the Prince) took the opportunity which fortune presented her, and resolved to pass the Sea with these Virgins, to go to Perusia, leaving order with her that governed those that stay'd, not to discover whither she was gone. And accord∣ingly the matter was effected, though her Waiting∣women endeavoured to avert her from it.

So Lysimena believing Zenocrates too little faithful, and fearing to be forced to marry Meleontus, went away (as I said before) to Perusia, with intent to resolve if possible to spend her life amongst the Vail∣ed Virgins which were to be establisht thee. As for me, I loving her dearly, and having no Mother, scrupled not to follow her fortune, however resolv'd to hinder her from executing her purpose. But to speak truth, I believe the affection she has always had for Ze∣nocrates hindered her from it rather than I. In the mean time the Prince still suffered it to be believ'd in Sicily that the Princess Lysimena was amongst the Vailed virgins with whom she had shut up her self, having been a long time without discovering where she was. As for Meleontus, he continued Favorite to the Prince, and very much afflicted for the absence of the Princess. But for that he has seen her flight was a pure effect of her hatred, I believe his love is much diminisht, and that he studies only to hinder Artemidorus and Lysimena from returning to Leontium. As for the Princess, she found an inviolable sanctuary with Me∣zentius Prince of Perusia; and you are not ignorant that being there in a time of the great disorders that happened between Porsenna and him, she serv'd Aron∣ces considerably when he came to deliver the Prince his Father; and having afterwards found better pro∣tection with Porsenna and Galerita than Mezentius, she has continued in their Court, where she has ac∣quir'd a high reputation, and where Artemidorus and Zenocrates understanding of her residence, pass'd to Syracusa where Amilcar was, and came into Italy together, where they have seen Lysimena many times. Zenocrates has been able to justifie himself, or at least to desire pardon for his customary inconstancies, in which nevertheless he swears his heart was never con∣cern'd. But for his punishment, he is become jea∣lous within a few days, and we cannot imagine who it should be that gives occasion to this jealousie.

However, we have understood a thing, which in my judgment will decide the interests of Berelisa and

Clidamira in reference to Artemidorus; for you shall know we have discovered by an antient Lover of Lysi∣mena, who came from Leontium a while since, and has had news from thence within these two days, that Clidamira has great credit in that Court, and so great, that Artemidorus and Lysimena cannot return thither but by her negotiation. That which gives her this authority, is, because there is a half engag'd love between her and Meleontus, who knows not that she still loves Artemidorus. The man whom I mention'd having brought a Letter of Clidamira's to Meleontus, which the Favorite lost and one of my Friends sends me, the Princess has purposed to give it to Artemi∣dorus assoon as his health shall be better, to the end to let him fully know the levity of this unfaithful fair one, of whom nevertheless they have great neeed; for being the Prince of Leontium is weak and over-rul'd by Amerintha and his Favorite, reason can prevail nothing at all with him.

Thus, Madam (said Amiclea to Clelia) I have re∣counted to you what you and your amiable Friends desir'd to know; and I beg your pardon for the little art I have us'd in making this relation.

AMiclea holding her peace, all these fair Virgins thank'd her: but Clelia with a little more cold∣ness than the rest, having her mind so taken up with Zenocrates's jealousie, whereof she thought she knew the cause, that she scarce took notice of what was spo∣ken. But there was none besides Plotina that observ'd the alteration of her countenance; for Amilcar, Ana∣creon, and Merigenes being enter'd, the conversation was chang'd. The first discourse was of the War past, the Truce and the Peace; then, of Love; and after∣wards concerning Themistus and Merigenes, who were shortly to depart. For my part (said Plotina) I envy those that go to Syracusa; for I confess to you I have heard speak of a Lady call'd Amalthea, whose merit charms me. Tell me then, I conjure you (said she to Merigenes) whether they that brought the in∣telligence from Lindamira to Themistus, told you no∣thing concerning that admirable Woman. All that I can say (answer'd Merigenes) is, that Amalthea is continually more generous, that her vertue is never weary of obliging the unfortunate, and that after a no∣ble manner, namely, without ostentation or interest; and the young and charming Clarista her Neece is at this time one of the most amiable Virgins in the World. For advancing in age she is become more beautiful than she was, she has perform'd more than she promis'd, though there was great expectation of her; and her mind being imbellisht as well as her visage, contributes to render her eyes more glittering, her physiognomy more agreeable, and her deportment more noble: in brief, she has so well improv'd the advantage of re∣siding with one of the most excellent Women in the World, that in this amiable Virgin are found all the charms of youth without any of the defects that ordi∣narily accompany that age. She is discreet and judici∣ous, debonaire and modest, exact both in friendship and constancy; and it may be said to her honour, that when she is known, it is easie to divine under whom she has been educated. I beseech you (said Plotina then) when you go to Syracusa, tell the generous Amalthea and the charming Clarista, that they have a Friend at Rome, whose friendship will cost them as little to preserve as it has to acquire. I promise to tell them whatsoever you please (answer'd Merigenes) and to tell it them in one of the most delectable places in the World. For I am told that since my departure the generous Artaxan∣der and the virtuous Amalthea have finished the build∣ing of a low apartment that lies along a fair Garden, and takes up the length of their stately Palace. You will do me a pleasure to speak of me in so excellent a place and in so good company (replied Plotina) but I should not be unwilling that you would at least car∣ry my fansie thither whither according to all appea∣rances I am never likely to go in person. I shall obey you (said Merigenes) yet I will not undertake to make you an exact description of that magnificent palace; for I fear I should a little pervert the order of Archi∣tecture. You are very prudent (said Amilcar) not to perplex your self willingly amongst Pilasters, Co∣lumns, Frieses, and Cornishes; for I remember I once knew a pretender to fine wit, who going about to de∣scribe a handsome house, put the Chapter in the place of the Base, the Pilaster upon the Column, and (if I am not mistaken) the Porch at the third story. But yet he had the faculty of imploying all the terms of the most exquisite Architecture, from the Fuming Pots to the Astragals. 'Tis true he did not put them in their right place; but nevertheless believing he understood himself, he conceiv'd he was understood too by his hearers, and was very much satisfied with it. To avoid therefore the like inconveniences, (an∣swered Merigenes, after he had laugh'd a little as well as the rest of the company at that which Amilcar spoke) I shall content my self to tell you in general that the Palace of Artaxander and Amalthea is large and mag∣nificent, and were it finished, would be one of the good∣liest in the world. That which renders it more agreeable, is, that it is built upon the Haven of Sy∣racusa, that there is a spacious and fair Garden be∣longing to it, that the Court of it is handsome, that the Stair-case is very excellent, that there are great and goodly apartments in it, that there are little ones too, agreeable and convenient; and that all the places and parts of this Palace are uniform, magnificent and well contriv'd. But to describe only the low apart∣ment (in which I purpose to speak of you) I must tell you it is contriv'd in such a manner, that all that can be wisht is to be found in it; for there are so ma∣ny rooms upon the same plain, that my memory is puzled to retain them. There are anti chambers, Chambers, a Gallery, Cabinets at both ends; and all these so well contriv'd that all the doors of those several places which are upon the same rowe exactly respond to one another; so that when one is at one end he may see all that is done at the other, & the view passing through all these several places, finds its a very agreeable sight: but above all the rest, the Gallery pleases infinitely. Imagine, that it is so contriv'd as to serve for a Gallery and a Cabinet both; for the Archi∣tect took room out of the thickness of the wall, at seve∣ral distances, to place shelves fill'd with books. The like have been made on the side of the Bay-windows; and for the safety and neatness of the books, there are Curtains which cover them, and great carved Windows which enclose them. This Gallery is vaulted, which renders it agreeable and cool. It has several Bay-win∣dows which look towards the Garden, where are seen abundance of Orange-trees; and on each side and at both ends are seen at equal distances twenty great looking-glasses fastned into the Wainscot which is wholly of Cedar. But to render this sight more agree∣able, on the side of each of these great looking glasses there are other little ones, with branches of silver issu∣ing out at the bottom, each of which supported two

stately Lamps. So that when these sixty or eighty Lamps are lighted, the reflection they make in that multitude of Looking-glasses, produces such an admi∣rable spectacle as cannot be represented. And to ren∣der this place as commodious as it is handsome, the Ca∣binet which is at the end remote from the Haven of Syracusa has such assemblance of melancholy and soli∣tude, that it is impossible not to be pensive in it. Two steps downward lead into it, it is of no great large∣ness, the prospect of it is bounded, and there is a shadiness so sutable to a solitary retreat, that never was any place so fit to muse agreeably or better con∣triv'd to tell a secret in, as this. But contrarily, the other Cabinet which is opposite to this, at the other end of this apartment, being in view of the Haven, diverts the eyes with a thousand delightful Objects, and a continual diversity of people going to and fro. So that here is always a choice either of Soli∣tude or of the World; and which is more remark∣able, this apartment without many adornments or guilding makes nevertheless such a shew of magnifi∣cence as cannot be express'd.

After what you have said (answer'd Plotina) I am more desirous than before of the friendship of the generous Amalthea, and the charming Clarista. I will not fail (replyed Merigenes) to request it for you, and I confidently promise you to obtain it, assoon as I shall have told them who you are. But would you not also (said Merigenes) be Friend to some of my Friends of this Country? I desire it (an∣swer'd she smiling) for according to the humor I am of, I am not very well satisfied with all those I have here. Sincerely (added she) if we well consi∣der, all the World are are but dissemblers; they whom we confide in most, deceive us most, and I think 'tis good prudence to distrust all others and our selves too. For all the World act like the vulgar at some time or other, all the World commits faults, and all the World is to blame in some cases. They who seem active, are deceivers; such as are not de∣ceivers are weak; they that are too wise, love no body; and they that love really are so few, that they make no remarkable number. Never tell me then (added Plotina speaking of some Friends) such a one is a wise man, generous, and incapable of failing; for to speak truly, all men are subject to defects. Yes (continued she with an amiable severity) all the World may be prepossessed with prejudice, all the world is crafty, envious, slanderous, false, weak; and there is scarce a Heroe but in some moment of his life finds some little low and vulgar sentiment in his heart; so true it is that all men have their imperfections. In truth (said Anacreon) Plotina has reason in what she says, for there is scarce any person that can boast of having a true Friend. Then I am more happy than others (said Merigenes) for I believe I have many. I be∣liev'd so as well as you (answer'd Anacreon) but upon an occasion of some importance, when I was at the Court of Polycrates, I found I had an infinite num∣ber of false or weak Friends, and very few whom I could account good. 'Tis so in all places (replyed A∣milcar) but in prudence it behoves never to confide in their Friendship further than their own interest, pleasure, or glory tyes them to you; and in equity it behoves to love them in the same measure as they love us, and never with any other affection than that which increases and diminishes according to occasion. But Heroical friendship is not much less difficult to be practis'd than constant Love; and for my part, I have rarely endeavour'd it, because the former is more convenient. 'Tis true, 'tis not so noble, excellent, and solid; but it never causes us much perplexity; it never makes us partakers of the misfortunes or sorrows of our friends; it ne∣ver renders us concern'd in the injuries which are done them; but taking barely the flowers of friend∣ship (if I may so speak) we leave the thorns to those sincere Friends, who resent all the sorrows of those they love, who engage in all their interests without exception, who maintain the same coura∣geously against the World, who have no fortunes apart, whose very honour is mutually common, who can never be poor whilst one of them is rich, who think themselves not in health when their friends are sick. Believe me (added Amilcar) this kind of friendship is not competent to all sorts of people, and I know some persons that have not been able to attain to it, though they much desir'd it. And therefore for fear of the same miscarriage, I content my self with loving according to the fashion, that is, very commodiously for my self. To conclude, whatever Merigenes is pleas'd to say, he knows no great number of those Heroes in Friendship. For my part (said Plotina) I desire no more of him but the Character of one; for I conceive he must needs be a very agreeable person, it being almost impossi∣ble to be perfectly a good Friend, without being per∣fectly a brave man. I grant it (said Merigenes) and I assure my self, that assoon as I shall have named Ly∣simantus, Amilcar will confess he is an excellent man, and a faithful Friend. I acknowledge it (answer'd Amilcar) and that which renders his friendship more solid, is, that he is indued with an immutable ho∣nesty; and as for constancy, he has given a thou∣sand eminent proofs of it, and lov'd the illustrious Meriander, even to the death. Since Lysimantus was Friend to Meriander, and is so still to Merigenes, (said Valeria) we must needs know, and I joyn my self with Plotina to desire his description. I do the same (said Clelia) and I assure my self, Merigenes will not refuse us. It would be sufficiently hard to do it, Madam (replyed he) and therefore to obey you, know, Lysimantus is a man of illustrious Lineage, and whose Ancestors have born the most considerable Charges in their own Country. But to speak truly, he is so well worthy to be commended by himself, that 'tis not at all necessary to fetch his praises from the vertues of his predecessors, and it suffices to speak only of what is truly his own. He is tall, of a goodly as∣pect; time has a little thickned his shape; he has a fresh and lively complexion, handsome and sprightly eyes, something a great nose, a happy Physiognomy, the air of a Wise man, and a very obliging address, especially towards his Friends. Nature has given him a great Wit, but solid and firm, with a very exact judgment of the highest matters. Not but that he has a pliable mind, which obliges him not to despise the meaner, for he speaks well in the most trivial things when he pleases to give himself the trouble; but it is certain, his mind is naturally more fit for serious matters. He has an universal knowledge of the World, which scarce ever deceives him; he understands the soundest Po∣licie, and the most solid morality. By his prudence he foresees the most remote and least probable events; and his firmness of mind causes him to support constant∣ly the most unexpected misfortunes. He knows how to undergo the changes of Fortune without changing his countenance; exile and imprisonment shake not the

firmness of his heart; and never studying but to do that which he ought, he leaves events to the power of Fortune, and always prepares himself for the most improsperous, that so he may not be surpriz'd by them. He is honorable, honest, punctual, secret, and as great a friend as possibly can be. His manners are very innocent; yet his vertue is nothing austere to∣wards others; but on the contrary, he conceives the wiser a man is, the more he is oblig'd to excuse the light follies of his Friends. He is naturally inclin'd to ambition and action, but his vertue renders him so ab∣solute a Master of his mind, that he conforms himself admirably well to moderation and quiet. 'Tis true, this quiet is sufficiently honourable to him; for his vertue, and his great love of justice and truth be∣ing known to all the world, he is the comforter of his unfortunate friends, the umpire of many great contests, and the depository of the last wills of divers eminent, who would be assur'd at their death to have their intentions perform'd. For Lysimantus is in∣capable of bending for any respect whatsoever, when he sees virtue does not require it; and indeed all the Grandeur of the World, nor death it self cannot make him demur a moment to do his duty. He believes a man is not oblig'd to be happy, but is oblig'd to be virtuous; and he thinks he should be more miserable if he could reproach himself with an action of weak∣ness, than if he were expos'd to the most cruel perse∣cution that ever was. In which regard he confines him∣self so scrupulously to do what he ought, that he can never fail in it; and friendship, as powerful as it is in his heart, has never been able to cause him to omit the least thing which he thought himself oblig'd in ho∣nour to do, though it were in the most nice and diffi∣cult occasions. Nevertheless, he loves his Friends ve∣ry tenderly; for, being Love in general never much touch'd his heart, though he may be not uncapable of a great passion, his Friendship is thereby the more ardent and tender. But how strong soever it be, the love of glory and virtue have always the greatest in∣fluence upon him. 'Tis true, he does not flatter him∣self with self-conceit in these occasions, nor make a pretext of justice to the disadvantage of Friendship; but he so well understands the just bounds of gene∣rosity, justice, and friendship, that he is never mi∣staken in them. Nevertheless, he has a virtue which he is troubled to give bounds to in his heart. For he be∣lieves goodness ought almost never to have any, and therefore he makes a particular profession of being good; and this is so much the more excellent, in that having a very high Soul, his goodness has nothing in it but what is noble, and can never be suspected of weakness. Were I minded, I could relate to you a hundred eminent actions of this illustrious man, which would confirm that which I say; but since I know he loves not to have his actions publisht, I shall conform to his humor, and deprive you of a very great pleasure by depriving him of a great glory. But though I forbear to tell you any thing of his life, yet I shall at least inform you that he was dearly belov'd by the illustrious Meriander (whom you have heard so much spoken of) and is infinitely so at present by the generous Theander, the prudent Theodamas, the agree∣able Teramus, the ingenious Amilcar, the illustrious Herminius (whom he saw at Syracusa) and by a man of eminent worth call'd Clidamantus, who has a high and tender heart, a very great capacity, with all noble inclinations, who is very sensible of Love and Friendship, who is honourable and generous, who writes excellently both in Verse and Prose, who can∣not submit to any thing but Reason, whose Will is ardent in whatsoever he effects, who is decent and magnificent, and who by a thousand great and excel∣lent qualities has deserv'd the friendship of Lysiman∣tus. I am ravisht with this Character of your illustrious Friend (answer'd Plotina) but I beseech you, tell me whether Meleander lov'd him always alike till his death. He so tenderly lov'd him (reply'd Merigenes) that he left him his portrait, and made choice of him to execute his last intentions. Nevertheless an adven∣ture once befel them worthy to be related to you, which might have bred a feud betwixt them, if both of them had not had well-temper'd minds, and in which honour and friendship made a great contest in the heart of Lysimantus. I beseech you (said Clelia) tell us that adventure. I will so (answer'd Merigenes) on condition the company will afterwards declare their sentiments concerning the action of my Friend. I scruple not to engage my self to this (replyed Clelia) for I perceive in the eyes of all that hear me they will do what you desire. Know then (said Merigenes) there was never a straiter friendship than that which was between Lysimantus and Meriander; for they had a great mutual affection and esteem, and had no distinct interests. Being in this condition, Fortune engag'd them to follow a great Prince into a strange Coun∣trey, where having continued a sufficient long time, it hapned that this Prince's affairs becoming in ano∣ther posture, he took a resolution to depart secretly out of the Countrey whither he had retir'd, and discover'd his purpose to Lysimantus and some other besides, with order to tell no person whatsoever of it, and to steal away with himself the next night, without giving intelligence of it to any. Lysimantus then found himself in an extreme plunge; for on the one side honour requir'd him to be faithful to his Master, and on the other friendship would not per∣mit him to desert his Friend in a strange Country, where he might be ill treated, or at least arrested after the departure of the Prince. However, though Lysimantus lov'd Meriander more than his own life, yet believing he could not reveal his Master's se∣cret without perfidiousness, he told Meriander no∣thing of it, and resolv'd to go with the Prince till he had conducted him into a place of safety, and to re∣turn afterwards to find his Friend and partake of the same Fortune with him, how bad soever it might prove. The business was done accordingly; Lysi∣mantus followed the Prince, and Meriander stay'd behind, and was extremely astonisht at the departure of his Friend. But having a good opinion of the heart of his Friend, he complain'd rather of his own mis∣fortune than of him, and took it not ill that honour had been more prevalent in his mind than friendship, and that not being able to satisfie the one without vio∣lating the other, he had prefer'd his duty before all things. Wherefore having found out a way to escape, and gone to seek the Prince upon the frontier, from whence his Friend was ready to return back to him, he was so generous as not to make him the least re∣proach. On the contrary he embrac'd him with ardency; and when Lysimantus would have told him what a sorrow it was to him to have been pro∣hibited by his duty from revealing the secret to him wherewith he had been intrusted, I beseech you (said he) have not so sad an opinion of me as to suspect that I blame you; for if I did, it would imply that I might be capable of a Treason. Do not then treat

me in this manner, I conjure you, and believe that if I had been in your place, I should have done as you have: but if any alteration has hapned in my heart, 'tis that I esteem you more than I did before. Ha! Meriander (cry'd Lysimantus) this action of yours is far more excellent than mine; and if you have encreas'd your esteem of me, I am oblig'd to augment (if possible) my affection for you.

Ha! Merigenes (cry'd Plotina) that which you re∣late seems to me so excellent, so noble and heroical, that my reason is dazled with it. And sincerely (added she) I know not which deserves the greater admira∣tion, Lysimantus or Meriander. For my part (said Clelia) I judge Meriander to have taken a very com∣mendable course: but since there was no other in rea∣son to be taken, and since that which Lysimantus did, was more difficult to resolve on, I conceive more praises are to be given to Lysimantus than to Merian∣der. If you please to consider (said Anacreon) you will find it a greater difficulty to keep our selves from being sway'd by our own interests, and to judge e∣quitably in favour of a Friend when we are both judges and parties. But however (said Valeria) the matter was not very ambiguous; for no man ought ever to betray his Master in favour of a Friend. 'Tis true (answer'd Amilcar) but there are so many people who betray their Masters for considerations less noble, that a man cannot be too much commended who did what he ought at such a time, when he could not do it with∣out exposing his Friend to be arrested in a strange Country. But yet I would know (said Plotina) when 'tis lawful to desert one's Friend. Never (said Valeria) but being 'tis forbidden for a man to be per∣fidious to his Master, in some occasions there may be a necessity of declining to serve his Friends as he de∣sires. But to speak truth, these unhappy occasions are few; for it is requisite that they be indispensable du∣ties, and such as are required toward our Prince, Fa∣ther, or Country: nevertheless at the same time we ought to be capable of entring into all the interests of those we love, and to be sensible of whatever con∣cerns them: it is requisite that their honour be mingled with our own, and that we be more ready to pardon injuries done to our selves than to our Friends. Finally, we ought positively to do more for our Friend than we would do for our selves. By what Merigenes has related (said Clelia) it appears that Lysimantus thought himself oblig'd even to perish with his Friend, since he resolv'd to return where he had left him; and 'tis easie to judge what he was capa∣ble of doing for him, by what he would have done against himself, lest his Friend might suspect him of too little affection. But that which I account most praise-worthy in Meriander (added Valeria) is, that he believ'd his Friend when he told him of his inten∣tion to return, and that without doubting a moment of what he said. For 'tis one of the greatest priviledges of Friendship to believe a Friend, as we would be believ'd by him. For if you think him capable of dissimulation, you ought to withdraw your friendship from him; and for my part, I confess, that I am sen∣sibly troubled when that which I say, is doubted of; because I am incapable of lying: besides, assoon as distrust is admitted amongst friends, friendship it self is in danger to be destroy'd. Undoubtedly Valeria has reason (answer'd Amilcar) and there is nothing more disgustful than to call in doubt that which a Friend assures you of, and nothing likewise that more ar∣gues the weakness of friendship in him that doubts; for if he takes his Friend for a sincere person, why does he not believe him? and if he think him false, why does he not discard him? Assuredly 'tis con∣fidence which is the most indissolvable bond of he∣roical friendship. So Meriander (who was vertue it self) presently believ'd Lysimantus; and to conclude, it may be said, without determining precisely which of the two deserves most commendations in this occa∣sion, that either of them did all which they ought to do, to merit a greater mutual esteem. In truth (said Plotina then) I think there are not found many such Friends as Lysimantus and Meriander; and 'tis pru∣dence not to believe lightly that we have found one, for fear of being deceived. For my part (said Amil∣car) I am perswaded, that the World has in general been always alike, that there has been always vice and virtue, that what is not in one place is in another. And for what concerns me (said Plotina) I think Meri∣genes has done a master-piece in entertaining our minds so agreeably with the relation he has made us; for ordinarily narrations somewhat long do not much divert, and the custom of relating such continually ought to be avoided; as I know some who never speak but of the time pass'd, and always recounting what they have seen, say nothing of what they see. 'Tis true (answer'd Amilcar) these eternal tellers of Stories are sometimes much to be fear'd. Some are confus'd, others too long, some are so peevish that they will never be interrupted, others on the contra∣ry interrupt themselves, and at the end know not what they have spoken, nor what they intended to speak: such as recount things that are not much cared for nor delightful in themselves, are more trouble∣some than the Tellers of Stories. Yet I had one day sufficient pleasure (said Plotina) in playing a prank once in my life in a company where I was; for after they had diverted themselves with a hundred several things, it was concluded to refer the diver∣tisement of the rest of the day to me. Wherefore when they had walkt, danc't and been entertain'd with a sumptuous collation, I thought it would be best to contrive some kind of amusement in the con∣versation. But being there were some persons in the company of no great Wit, I confess that judging they were not fit to be diverted seriously, I made a malicious piece of railery, which was to engage them all to obey me, and to speak concerning what I pleas'd. And so chusing such subjects for these people to speak of as they understood least, I made them say very pleasant things. For my part (said Valeria) I should be much puzled if I were obliged to speak of several things which I understand not. And, as for me (said Clelia) I speak not much but of that which affects my heart. For my particular (said Amiclea) I speak indifferently what I have seen; and I what I think (added Merigenes.) I am then more dextrous than all you (said Amilcar) for me∣thinks I sdeak alike well of every thing. At least you speak sometimes very pleasantly of others (answer'd Plotino) and though you believe you always do won∣ders (added she) yet I am confident you will not make a description of a handsome place so well as Amiclea. I grant it (reply'd he) but I can boast that I do it better than any thing else, except loving you; for, as for that, I not only surpass others, but I daily surpass my self. I beseech you (said she smi∣ling) do not confound your descriptions, leave that of your affection to another time, and content your self to describe to us some fair House, or Garden, that

we may see your skill. But if he describe a place to us which we have not seen (said Valeria) we shall not know whether he describe it well or no. If you will refer your selves to Merigenes (answer'd Amilcar) I will describe one to you, in which your fancy may walk with incredible pleasure; for there is not a fairer in the World. They say 'tis so dry in Africa (reply'd Amiclea) that I hardly think you can make so handsome a description if you chuse a place of your own Country. No, no (answer'd Amilcar) do not fear my judgment, for 'tis at least as great as my Wit. And therefore I shall describe to you a very fair Place in Asia, which I know Me∣rigenes has seen, and which is not far from Babylon. Then 'tis the fair house of Telastus and Melisanta (reply'd Merigenes.) 'Tis the same (said Amil∣car.) Your choice is admirable (answer'd Merigenes) and you cannot mistake in the corner of a Walk, but I shall perceive your error. But 'tis a long way from hence to Asia (said Amiclea.) As for the Voy∣ages of the fancie (answer'd Plotina) they are so easily made, that it will be no trouble to me to go to Babylon in a moment. But how will you know (said Valeria) whether Amilcar represents a place well which you never saw, and never will? 'Tis suffi∣cient (answer'd she) that I see whether he knows how to make a handsom Idea of a fair place; he that so much derides those that put the Bases upon the Chapters: for as for my own part, I confess to my shame, when I have been in a brave Garden, I could say nothing of it but that it was extremely handsome, delightful, and admirable. Then I shall ex∣cel you (answer'd Amilcar) and to manifest so much, attend to me silently, and have a little patience. If I would make a bare plat-form, I should soon have done; but intending to make you a faithful Portraiture, I must desire a little time. Yet I confess ingenuously, the place I am going to describe to you, which is called Mount Euphrates, has such extraordinary Deauties, that I think it impossible to delineate them well. It is so near Babylon, that it requires but a quarter of an hour to go thither, 'Tis true, the mountain upon which it is situated, is a little towards the right side of the City, but nevertheless, there is no difficulty at all in the way; besides, if one plea∣ses to go a little about, there is a way leads to it, the slopeness of which is almost imperceptible. As for the Building, it has nothing very magnificent on the outside, but it is admirably commodious within. The apartments of it are handsome; there are Halls, Chambers, Galleries, and so pleasant, convenient, and agreeable a Cabinet, that nothing can be desired more in it. For after having passed through a great Hall, and a handsome Chamber, one enters into it by a carved Door, the borders of which are guilded. The form of this Cabiner is square, it is painted and guilded all about, and on three sides of it are Look∣ing-glasses with guilded frames, which by reflection receive all the Objects of the most goodly Country that ever was seen, and of one of the fairest Gar∣dens in the World; so that sitting upon the rich Cushions which are about it, or upon a little Couch which is on the side opposite to the Door, one sees on all sides a most agreeable sight. For these seve∣ral Looking-glasses not only give several represen∣tations of a brave Country, a Garden, and the square Ponds of water, as well as the Company which is in it; but they multiply themselves, and by the diversity of their reflexions agreeably de∣ceive the eyes, and pleasingly amuse the imagina∣tion. And to make an end of describing this admi∣rable Cabinet, I shall tell you, that there is a kind of a shelf, in form of a Cornish which lyes round about above the Looking-glasses. This shelf is painted and guilded, like all the rest of the Cabinet, and several curious and magnificent vessels are seen upon it. But that which chiefly renders this Cabinet admirable, is, that it has a large Bow-window from whence is seen all that which I am going to describe to you. But to do it well, it is requisite to return back the same way, to the end to represent to you all that is perceiv'd in an instant, when having gone through a very handsome passage, and cross'd a great Court, one arrives at the Porch, and advances up the steps. Conceive then, that one is no sooner ar∣riv'd at the place I speak of, but there is discovered the fairest sight in the World; for to omit speaking of a great Terrass walk which lies between two agree∣able Groves, I will only tell you that it is a stately stone Balcone, beyond which is seen a large green plat with divisions and borders of Flowers round about, and three Walks on the two sides of it, as it were to lead the sight to a fair Fountain, which is so much the more admirable, for that it is plac'd upon the top of a Mount. Beyond this Fountain which has a ve∣ry stately Basin, is another green plat made Terrass∣wise, with three stately entrances of stone-work, and two large square lakes of water on the right and left side, almost as if Nature had inverted her order by placing lakes upon Hills, they are so great and hand∣some. 'Tis true, in approaching towards them, 'tis vi∣sible enough that Art has assisted Nature, for they are encompass'd with stone, the sides of them are green turf, and there are low walks to go round about them, the borders of which are covered with perpetual ver∣dure. So that these Ponds of water having each of them five Fountains arising up with sharp spires, make a very agreeable Object with that Fountain in the middle I told you of before. Below this there is a third Terrass'd green plat, more rustical than the second, from whence being descended by other stone stairs, one sees a Round of water with several Jets of Water, Rocks, Prilling-spouts, Napes, and all that the industry of men can add to Nature. But to bring back your imagination to the Porch (if I may so speak) and make you well comprehend that which is seen there, know, that besides the first and second green-plat, the Fountain in the middle, and the two square lakes of water, the prospect reaches to above twenty miles distance, though the sight be a∣greeably arrested by a very delectable variety. For beyond the inclosure of the park is seen a hill on the left hand, which is cultivated by husbandry, and in stead of hindring the sight, leads it towards the fairest Object in the world; for there is discovered a Royal House standing in a Plain, which has several stately Towers of ancient structure; and another proud mo∣dern Building, which one of the chief men of the World caus'd to be built there, to render this place more fit for the divertisement of a great Prince. This Castle is accompanied with a great Wood, which is dis∣cover'd likewise, and is a marvellous ornament to the Country. More towards the right hand is seen ano∣ther fair House, which belongs to a man very il∣lustrious both for his eminent Charges, and his great Qualities. And a little nearer is seen a Temple, in which are Virgins consecrated to Diana, and several other Houses of Persons of Quality are discerned,

which adorn this Countrey with an agreeable variety. Beyond these fair Objects, which seem to serve chief∣ly to render the Prospect from Mount Euphrates more divertizing, is seen an admirable Plain which shews as if it were united with the sky; and on the right hand is seen the top of a rustick Temple, solitary plains, hills, copses, heaths, interjacent fields, and remote mountains, which rising insensibly one above another, withdraw themselves out of view by their distance. In brief, this sight is so surprising and ex∣cellent, that one cannot be but continually amaz'd and charm'd with it. However, I must change my stati∣on, and conduct you from the left side of the Porch into a great Walk which runs through a side of the Grove, and is cross'd by two other very solitary walks, in the concourse of which is a Fountain in the midst. Going towards which, one finds on the right hand a little end of a Walk, which suffering the sight to pass through the trees that reach up to the Sky, discovers at a distance the Royal House I mention'd, the prospect of which is so agreeable. But when a∣mongst the sweet warblings of a thousand Birds who are the perpetual guests of this pleasant wood, you arrive at the Fountain, you find your self in the midst of several Walks, and in an admirable place. That which continues directly from the House, at the end rises up into a little Hill, and hath a Copse on the left side, and a spacious Meadow on the right. If one look towards the side where the sight is free, one sees the same Countrey I have described to you, but with another aspect; because by changing place, all the objects appear after a different manner. But after this, turning to the contrary side you behold the shadiness of the Wood, and pass into another Walk from whence is seen on the left hand a Meadow between two Woods, which is the most agreeable sight in the World; and on the right, another Meadow, and a little further a Copse. At the end of this Walk, one enters into a great Walk of the Wood, the Trees of which are so shady that they wholly intercept the rays of the Sun. From this place is a very agreeable pro∣spect; for this walk at one end terminates in a kind of perspective and rising at the other between two hand∣some Copses, one mounts up a little Hill where are four Walks, and where the sight is so free that one would think himself master of the World. On one side is seen the same Countrey that was seen from the Porch, and several square Ponds of water; and on the left hand, many brave houses, and a plain of far greater extent. On the one side is seen a corner of Babylon, and the shady Woods; and on the other a rustick Temple, all Assyria, the proud Monuments of the ancient Kings of this Countrey, Villages, Towns, Cottages, Valleys and Mountains after off, and so great an extent of Land, that the sight being unable to discern any thing more, the imagination supplies its defici∣ency, and makes one think he sees that which he does not, because he knows only that things ought to be there. After this you go back the same way, and turning at the bottom of the Hill, you ascend by lit∣tle rustick solitary Walks which shew as if it were the remotest Desart in the World. All is wild and neg∣lected, there is nothing to be seen there but Trees and shade; nor heard, besides Birds. By the way is seen a little place to take covert, but it was made only to rest in, or avoid the Rain: so that in this place the imagination cannot but be fill'd with solitary objects. But then, having gone some time in these little winding-walks, one arrives at a Walk as high as the Wood. It rises on the side toward the little Hill, and is very open: but at the other end it is very delight∣ful with its shadiness. On the left side are divers cross Walks, which descend by degrees, and whose shew is gloomy and wild. A little further on the same side there is a place so charming, that a Painter could never invent any thing so handsome. And there is another, the objects of which, though handsome, have an ap∣pearance of solitariness that pleases infinitely. But without stopping at so many places, I must proceed to tell you, that having gone some time in this high Walk, one sees at the end a kind of shew, which at first is so confus'd, that 'tis not discernable what it is; but going further one would think he beheld a great River and the Masts of a Navy, a little after, one would imagine, it were some piece of admirable Per∣spective painted; but in approaching nearer, one finds that they are Towers and Pyramids, and that this is the most goodly and magnificent sight in the World. For through three large Windows which make up the whole side of a Cabinet built with a round arch'd roof, is seen in the plain directly opposite the great and stately City of Babylon, which by the Towers of its Temples, Palaces and hanging Gardens makes a confusion of gallant objects that dazles and amazes the imagination, especially when the Sun shines upon them in the morning. The admiration this Prospect ex∣cites, deprives some of speech, and causes others to make a thousand shouts; and the excellency of it can∣not be imagined by any but those that have seen it. But the opposition of divers other things seen from the same place renders it more surprizing. For up∣on hillocks toward the right hand are seen many little Countrey-cottages, a rustick Temple something nearer, a small thicket of trees; on the left Vineyards, and Corn-fields, in the middle spacious and flowry Mea∣dows, and furthest of all, the heads of Mountains crown'd with stately Palaces. And besides all this magnificence, there is a terrass'd Walk six hundred pa∣ces long, that affords the same prospect, which un∣doubtedly is the most admirable in the World. But fear of tediousness perswades me to omit the descripti∣on of several cross Walks which meet at the entrances of the Cabinet from whence this rare prospect is seen; and not to mention to you the various and admirable prospects of them, I shall only tell you, that descend∣ing to the low Walk of the Wood there is an admi∣rable one for variety, and that from thence is seen the same square Pond that was seen from the little Hill which is directly opposite to it. But in brief, being return'd into the low Walk, one goes out of it by great Stairs of stone, crosses the Court, and comes again into the Porch the goodly prospect from whence comforts you agreeably for all the other fair objects which are no longer seen. But that which is remark∣able, they to whom this gallant House belongs (who are noble Babylonians) are so worthy of it, that all the World rejoyces to see it in their power. For Telastus and Melisanta his wife are persons of great fame for vertue, in which respect they are highly esteem'd by all people of eminent quality and worth. Telastus is a comely personage, of a brown complexion, and a tall stature; he has a noble air, an agreeable smile, and is extremely civil. His mind is of a good temper, his conversation sincere, his judgment solid, and his capacity fits him for the most considerable imploy∣ments. His fortune is no doubt very advantageously establisht: but he uses it so nobly, that no body is en∣vious of his plenty. Whatever can be expected from

magnificence guided by discretion, is to be found in his habitation. His Houses are handsome, his Table is splendid, delicate and neat, he loves worthy per∣sons; and to compleat his felicity, the Gods have gi∣ven him a Wife whose perfectly noble inclinations corresponding to his own leave him nothing to desire for his happiness but to have children that may succeed and resemble them. For Melisanta is indu'd with all that can render an excellent woman considerable. She is not tall, but yet she is well made, and has a very a∣greeable shape. She has brown Hair, a fair and lively complexion, blew Eyes, pretty, chearful and sprightly. The shew of her countenance is agreeable, her smile very amiable, her Neck well made, her Arms and Hands delicate, and her gestures free and and graceful. As for her mind, she is infinitely in∣genious, and has a sprightly Wit that exerts it self always in conversation, and never suffers her to be pensive. She has a quick and ready Fancy, she speaks very exactly and easily upon all occasions; she makes a divertizing relation in the most pleasant manner possible; and her memory is so faithful to her, that I once heard her repeat a Discourse made by the most Eloquent of the Babylonian Magi, with∣out varying scarce any thing from it. As for her judgment, the conduct of her whole life gives an advantageous proof of it, it not being possible to find a person more solidly vertuous than she. No∣thing ever molests her, and she satisfies all kind of duties without solicitude. There is not a woman in Babylon more exact in observing all things pertaining to her Religion; she performs to her Relations all the offices she ows them; she does no less to her Friends, and never failing in any of the different oc∣casions whereto decency or civility engage her, she has yet time enough left to spend in conversations and things indifferent. As for her Address, one would think she was design'd for every thing she does; her Attire is well chosen, her House-furniture is judiciously suted, and when she gives a Collation to her Friends at her fair House in the Countrey, nothing can be desir'd more. Her slaves serve her with order, decency and respect, and she under∣stands the art of giving in the most gallant manner in the World. She has a Friend, to whom one day she made a Present very ingeniously; for having taken notice of a very handsome Picture-case which she wore hanging by a plain string, and this Friend coming to visit her, she took it from her with more dexterity than a Lacedemonian could have done: so that this Lady believing it lost, regretted the loss of it four days together. But at length Melisanta sent her the Case which she griev'd for, causing her to be told that it was recovered out of the hands of thieves; and whereas they had put a chain to it, she conceiv'd she might keep it without scruple, because it was not known to whom to restore it, and no per∣son came to demand it. But indeed this chain, which was of handsome workmanship, and had a very neat clasp belonging to it, was put to the Picture-case by Me∣lisanta, who by this ingenious liberality would make a Present under the colour of a theft. It is for you to judge by this of Melisanta's mind, who besides all I have told you, has yet another admirable quality; for she has a very excellent and charming voice. She sings as well as 'tis possible to sing, and there's no person that hears her, but would think she has a very passionate soul. Yet she is sometimes accus'd of not being sensible enough to friendship, and indeed I think it may be confidently said without doing her in∣justice, that hers is usually more generous than tender, though I think it not impossible for her to love with great dearness. However, her manner of loving is very commodious to her Friends and glorious to her self, for she is very careful of persons whom she loves; she is officious, gentle, and agreeable, and she has no friend but ows her a thousand civilities and plea∣sures: in brief, it may be thought that were Meli∣santa as loving as she is lovely, the friendship born towards her would be so excessive, that it would tor∣ment as much as if it were love. Ha! Amilcar (said Plotina) I am extremely taken with Melisanta, and should like better to be with her at Mount Euphrates than in the Camp of Porsenna. However, as I am sincere, I confess you are as great a Painter of Land∣skips as Pourtraitures; but before I commend so much as I desire, Merigenes must tell me, whether Telastus, Melisanta, and Mount Euphrates are such as you re∣present them. They are so like (answered Merigenes) that there is nothing more exact. All that Amilcar has spoken, has much diverted me (said Valeria) but I should not counsel another to make so long a narrati∣on, unless he could perform it as well. That which I admire (said Amiclea) is, that Amilcar has so ac∣curately retain'd all the particularities of so excellent a place. As for that (answer'd he) wonder not; for you must know, that all handsome Objects make so strong an impression in my mind, that they never are extinguisht. But I declare to you freely that in an ordinary conversation I should not have made my relation so long, for it is not fit to impose silence to a whole Company, only to shew that one knows how to speak. After this, Amiclea withdrawing, the rest of the company departed, so that Clelia, Plo∣tina and Valeria being left alone, the two latter per∣ceived that Clelia's melancholy was still more aug∣mented. What's the matter? my dear Sister (said Plo∣tina to her) What new cause produces this sadness? Clelia blusht at this speech, and would have pass'd it without answering; but Valeria pressing her thereto. Is it possible (said she to them) that you have not ap∣prehended by the end of Amiclea's relation that Ze∣nocrates is jealous of Aronces and Lysimena? and that you know not, that this being join'd to all the other conjectures I have of my unhappiness, I have ground to believe that Aronces is unfaithful, and that whilst I obstinately reject Horatius's affection, he is uncon∣stant to mine? To shew you (reply'd Plotina) that I am sincere, though I am Sister to Horatius, and think he is worthy of your love, yet I do not stick to assure you that Aronces is innocent, and that your jealousie is as ill grounded as that of Zenocrates. But who knows (said Clelia) whether Aronces does not consent to the order which he has receiv'd, not to see me? for by this means we shall be sent back to Rome without his seeing me, and when I shall be return'd thither, perhaps he will write to me that he could not dis∣obey the King his Father; and so without being expos'd to my reproaches, he will forget all his Oaths, and perhaps love me no more. But if this misfortune should happen (added she blushing with) I find I should hate Aronces as much as I have lov'd him, and this bare suspicion I have of him, causes such a confus'd trouble in my heart, that I cannot distinguish what sentiments I have in my Soul. As Clelia was speaking in this manner, Lucilius enter'd, and seem'd to them very sad. So that Plotina being solicitous concerning the cause of

his sadness, askt him hastily, what the matter was Alas! Madam (said he sighing) I am unwilling to tell you. Clelia and Valeria blusht, and looking upon Lucilius, Is it (said Valeria) because the peace is disturb'd by the artifices of Tarquin? Or is it (added Clelia) because Porsenna instead of keeping us for Hostages, determines to treat us like Prisoners? No, Madam (answered he) but 'tis because he has caus'd the Prince to be arrested, without any known cause, and seems extremely incensed against him. How? (said Clelia in a great surprize) is Aronces arrested by Porsenna's Order? Yes, Madam (answered he) and the Camp is so mov'd, all the World is so asto∣nish'd, and the Queen, and the Princess of the Leon∣tines so afflicted at it, that it is impossible to express to you the universal consternation occasion'd thereby. Clelia sigh'd at these words, which at the same time redoubled both her discontents and her suspicions. But is it not imagin'd (said she) for what reason he is arrested? Not at all (answered Lucilius) all that is known, is, that ever since the cruel Tullia had so private a conference with Porsenna, he has been sufficiently pensive and sad; that yesterday there came several men from that Princess, with whom Porsenna conferr'd in private; and that soon after he caus'd the Prince to be arrested, and absolutely commanded he should not be suffer'd to speak to any person. So that, Madam, I do not see, how he can so much as give any intelligence of himself to those he loves most. Porsenna has also appointed that you be guarded with more care than ordinary, though he has com∣manded too, that you be always served with respect.

The Queen and the princess of the Leontines being desirous to speak concerning the Prince to Porsenna, he told them with sufficient roughness, that when they knew his offence, they would hate him as much as they lov'd him; and till he could declare it to them, he desir'd them not to speak of him more. This I conceiv'd fit to let you know, Madam (added Luci∣lius) to the end that if you know any thing that may be prejudicial or advantageous to Aronces, you might make use of it as you judge convenient. Alas! Generous Lucilius (reply'd she) I know nothing, sa∣ving that I am unhappy, and that if Aronces be no more criminal towards me than towards Porsenna, he is the most innocent of all men. A little while after this, Telanus brought a Letter from Aronces to Cle∣lia, in which she found these words.

The unfortunate Aronces to the Incom∣parable Clelia.

I Know not what I am accus'd of, Madam; but I know well, I have done nothing but lov'd you, since I began to be yours. There∣fore pity me, I conjure you; and whatever be∣fals me, be as faithful as I am.

Clelia read this Letter with a strange agitation of mind; and Telanus having promis'd her to en∣deavor to deliver her answer to the Prince, before his Guards were absolutely setled, she writ and gave him her Letter: after which, being unable to dissemble her grief, she retir'd till Lucilius and Te∣lanus were gone. But assoon as they were departed, Who ever saw (said she to Valeria and Plotina) a more unhappy person than I am? for I pass not one day without some new misfortune. 'Tis but a mo∣ment since I was so far jealous as almost to hate A∣ronces, and at present I so commiserate his unhap∣piness, as to wish my self prisoner in his room. For if it were so, he might deliver me; whereas I am able to do nothing but pity him, and pity him un∣profitably. But after all, if I cannot cease to be unhappy, I may perhaps at length cease to live; there being no likelihood that I shall be always able to overcome grief. Valeria and Plotina did all they could to com∣fort her, but with no effect; and Clelia having pass'd the rest of the day in complaint, spent all the night in sighing.

The end of the First Book of the Fifth part of CLELIA.

CLELIA: The Fifth and last Part. BOOK II.

THE imprisonment of the Illustrious Aronces, as it produc'd a passionate sorrow in the breast of Clelia at the Camp, so it excited a secret joy in that of Horatius at Rome; it being not possible for a rival, how gene∣rous soever, not to be glad for such a misfortune as may conduce to render him happy. And in order hereunto, he urg'd Publicola and the second Consul with much importunity to expedite the performance of the Treaty. Herminius also was no less earnest for it; to the end he might see Valeria re∣turn: but as for Aemilius, Mutius, and Spurius, they would have rather chose never to see their Mistress again, than to be spectators of Herminius happiness by her Nuptials. Octavius being become amorous of Hermilia, ardently desir'd that the peace were concluded; Clelius also wisht it impatiently, that he might cause Clelia to marry Horatius; and all the Romans in general, unwillingly induring that Tarquin and Tullia were still so near Rome, made continual vows for the accomplishment of the peace. As for Artemidorus, he recovered so fast in a few days, that his Physicians affirm'd he would shortly be able to go abroad; and in the mean time the Princess of the Le∣ontines signified to him that she would visit him speedily about an important Affair, but her presence being necessary at Porsenna's Court for serving Aron∣ces, she could not exactly set the time. This Message extremely discontented Zenocrates, whose mind being prepossess'd with jealousie, he believ'd that the cause of deferring to visit a Brother, could be no other than to serve a lover and not a friend. On the other side Berelisa and Clidamira seeing Artemidorus re∣cover'd, made a resolution to go to Praeneste, and Anacreon offer'd himself to accompany them. In the interim, all the most vertuous Gallants at Rome conti∣nually convers'd with these two fair persons in the ab∣sence of Clelia and Valeria. But for that their inte∣rests were extremely cross, it was easie to perceive that their hearts always dissented, though they liv'd very civilly together. As for Amilcar, though Plotina were not at Rome, and that considering the nature of Love, it may seem his heart ought to have been at the Camp, because his Mistress was there, yet he did not cease to divert himself upon occasion, and to laugh at Damon's hatred towards him. for he perceived that he hated him more for having made that deriding Dia∣logue against the sect of Pythagoras, than because he was his Rival. Nor did Acrifius love him very well, because he oftentimes hindred him from speaking as much as he desired, and also because he observ'd that he was attended to more favourably than himself. But, as for Horatius, his heart was always fill'd with hope, imagining to himself that when Clelia could no longer hope to marry Aronces, she would resolve to obey Clelius. As for Themistus and Merigenes, they pre∣par'd themselves to depart speedily, but in the inte∣rim, they were almost continually with Clidamira and Berelisa, to whom also Cesonia frequently resorted. The imprisonment of Aronces no doubt was sensibly regretted by all that knew him, and even by such too as had only heard of his fame; but being they judg'd not that he was obnoxious to any criminal accusation, they accounted him only a Prisoner of State, whose life was out of all danger, because he was Son of him that caus'd him to be arrested. Wherefore some of his Friends omitted not to entertain themselves delight∣fully when occasion was presented; For those people are rarely found, who are deeply sensible of the misfor∣tunes which befall even such as they love, or whose re∣gret is of any long continuance. Compassionate grief is but transient, and soon dispell'd upon the dawning of the least pleasure; and no doubt the number of those persons is very small, who are so generous as to partake sincerely in all the concernments of those they love, and whose hearts are capable of being thorough∣ly toucht with the sorrows of others. But Amilcar's natural jovialness being an antidote against all sorts of sadness, he was always debonaire, whether he were at Rome or at the Camp; and having gotten a priviledge to himself of speaking the most disgust∣ful truths without offence, he talkt to Berelisa and Clidamira about their differences with all manner of

liberty. Sometimes he spoke such things to them as, had they not been capable of railery, would no doubt have sufficiently perplexed them, though they were extremely delightful to the hearers. But one day Berelisa said pleasantly to him in the presence of Ce∣sonia, Clidamira and Anacreon, I fear Herminius too much perswaded you to love truth when he discours'd so well against lying; for I have lately observ'd you speak your mind, without scrupling at any thing which you see. Since I do it, without offence to any person (answered Amilcar) wherefore do you blame me? I blame you (reply'd Berelisa) because you give an example which will be so badly followed, that all such as would imitate you will be insufferable. For it is more difficult than 'tis believ'd, to jest with Friends without displeasing them. 'Tis true (said Clidamira) usually people go further than is fitting. Indeed (added Anacreon) 'tis not enough to speak plainly that which true reason allows one to speak; for we ought to understand those persons fully be∣forehand to whom we use freedom of speech. For most frequently, such as love to put jests upon others are least willing to take them; and therefore it be∣hoves to consider such well with whom we converse in that manner, and to chuse the words we make use of; since many times a word a little too hard embitters the pleasing gust of railery. Believe me (said Ceso∣nia) less than a word will sometimes make that change; for only the tone of the voice is sufficient to alter the sence of a speech; a malicious smile turns an innocent jest into a Satyr; and in brief, nothing re∣quires more judgment than to practise railery inof∣fensively. And for my part I never saw any but Plo∣tina, and Amilcar, that knew how to make this inno∣cent war handsomly, which renders conversation delightful, and which always ends in joy when the practisers of it are good and ingenious. Neverthe∣less, (answered Anacreon) they are in justice to be ex∣cus'd who are not so dextrous and agreeable as Plotina and Amilcar. I beseech you, Anacreon (said this in∣genuous African) do not undertake to praise me; for being both of us make Verses, we shall be liable to be reckon'd among those Poets that commend one ano∣thers Verses, though they frequently jar in prose. 'Tis true, this last can never be applyed to us; for I know you speak much better of me than I deserve, and I as much of you as you merit. For my part (said Clida∣mira) I confess I extremely hate those people who commend all persons and things without distinction, and there is nothing less obliging than profaned prai∣ses, which have been employed a thousand and a thousand times in extolling such as ought rather to be blam'd. As for groundless praises (answered Berelisa) I hate them as well as you; but I confess I much love to excuse the defects of others. Yet there are some (replyed Anacreon) who deserve not very well to be excus'd. How shall we know them? (said Clidami∣ra.) It is not very difficult (answered Anacreon) for I conceive 'tis more just to excuse the defects which are incident to the condition or age we are of, than those which are opposite to it. As a coverous old man deserves rather to be excus'd, than a young miser; for although 'tis a folly to heap up treasure when a man has not much occasion for it longer, ne∣vertheless, as 'tis a defect frequently attending old age, they that are guilty of it are the more pardonable. By the same reason it ought not to be accounted so strange for an old man to love to recount what he has seen in his youth, and to be addicted to make long stories, as for a young, who having yet scarce seen any thing, affects to be longer in relating that little which he has seen than he was in seeing it. No Questi∣on this is very just (said Cesonia:) and I conceive that 'tis fit to excuse the defects not only which seem pecu∣liar to a certain age or condition, but those which are proper to Nations too; for in truth, every people have their faults and vertues. That which you speak, is true (answer'd Cesonia:) But are there any condi∣tions that draw their defects along with them? No doubt there are (reply'd Amilcar) and for example, is it possible for them which are in the chief imployments of Commonwealths never to fail of what they pro∣mise? Ha! Amilcar (cry'd Berelisa) unhappy are they who are constrain'd by the greatness of their im∣ployments to fail frequently of their word; and happy they, who in great Fortunes retain exactly the vertues of private persons, and who for fear of being defective to themselves, are never so to any. However (said A∣milcar) I am perswaded those which are in a certain degree, cannot always do all that they desire; and they deserve to be excus'd, if it appear sometimes that they do not do all which they ought, because very often we are very ignorant of that which may serve to justi∣fie them. But to speak a little less seriously, is it not true that when a Lover is long absent from his Mi∣stress, if he happens to meet with some fair person who seems to tell him by her looks, that she would not be sorry to be lov'd, he deserves to be excus'd, if sometimes he uses obliging blandishments to her? For my part, I am of your opinion (said Clidamira.) I imagined you would be so (answered Berelisa smiling) but for my part, who place fidelity above all things, I assure you I cannot excuse unfaithful Lovers, though I willingly excuse all other weak∣nesses. Yet there is so great a number of such (re∣ply'd Amilcar) that 'tis in a manner necessary to ex∣cuse them, for fear of being oblig'd to blame almost all men. On the contrary (said Berelisa) 'tis because there are too many of them, that we ought to take ••••ed of excusing them, for fear of encreasing the number, which is already but too great. As for me (said Clidamira) I believe there are more of them than 'tis thought, for I know some who hold it for a Maxim, that constancy is always to be talk'd of, but inconstancy practis'd when any favourable occasion is offer'd for it. For my part (said Anacreon) I con∣ceive it would be more gallant to make a shew of grea∣ter inconstancy than we practise in reality. And, as for me (said Amilcar) I conclude that we ought to to do that always which pleases us, without consider∣ing whether we are constant or inconstant, because pleasure (to speak properly) consists not in the things which we do, but only in doing our own wills. For example, I confess that were I to have a long love in a place where I could have no other, I think, that to a∣void the lukewarmness of long loves, I should renew the ardor of my passion by making now and then some small quarrel with my Mistress, so as almost to break quite off with her, and our reconcilement would seem to me a kind of novelty. You are too ingenious by half (said Berelisa) and I doubt not but if Plotina continue long at Porsenna's Ca••p, you will seek to comfort your self at Rome with some fair one, when you shall be constrain'd to come hither. Ha! charm∣ing Berelisa (cry'd he) do not too cruelly taunt me; but believe I have more love for Plotina than I had for six other Mistresses which I had one day at once. I perceive (said Anacreon then) 'tis fit that I inter∣rupt

this discourse a little, and demand of the Com∣pany, Wherefore, since Love is a sentiment so uni∣versal that Nature never fails to inspire it, men have offer'd to condemn it, or at least to make so great a Mystery of it? To render it more delightful (an∣swer'd Amilcar hastily) for without the several for∣malities that are us'd in it, Love would not be that which it is. Besides, to speak sincerely (added he) Ceremonies make up the principal beauty of many things; for example, separate a sacrifice from the Temple, the Altar, the Wood-pile, the holy Vessels and Knives, the fillets of the Victims, and Garlands of Flowers which crown them, and you will see no∣thing but a miserable animal, which is no fairer than another of its kind; for, many times men are so wicked as to make but a bad choice of Victims. I beseech you (said Cesonia then) do not confound things thus; let us jest about love as much as you please, but never mingle Religion amongst your follies; for you have too much wit to do as some young people, new-come into the World, who think nothing so fit to produce them the reputation of great capacities, as to disdain the sentiments of their Fathers. Than which nothing is more contrary to true reason, or which sooner makes a man be look'd upon as a fantastick. Indeed (said Berelisa) it behoves never to make a particular way to ones self in these matters, the wiser sort of people ought to be constantly followed in the ordinary path, and we ought not to go wandring, out of a con∣ceit to find one more commodious. But let us take heed we do not wander too much our selves (said A∣milcar laughing) for we are far from the beginning of our discourse, which was concerning the art of jesting with Friends. We are not very far from it (reply'd Cesonia smiling) for in speaking as you do, you im∣ploy your railery upon me, and teach me how to use it towards others. As Cesonia was speaking thus, one came to advertise Amilcar, that a stranger was newly arriv'd at his Lodgings, who desir'd to speak with him with much earnestness. Whereupon he was con∣strain'd to go away thither. Presently after, Themi∣stus enter'd, and told the company there was a report that Porsenna accus'd Aronces of a horrible crime: a moment after, Herminius came, and said he had heard the same thing; but added, that whatever the rumor meant, he was strongly perswaded that Aronces was innocent.

What then is it (said Berelisa) which they accuse him o••? she had scarce pronounced these words when the Princess of the Leontines enter'd, who having first been to see Artemidorus, came to Clidamira's lodgings to see Berelisa. Assoon as the first Ceremo∣nies were over, I beseech you, Madam (said Hermi∣nius to her) be pleas'd to gratifie the company so far as to tell them whether it be true that the King of Hetru∣ria accuses his Son of a horrid crime. Alas! (answer'd she sighing) 'tis but too true, that he accuses him for having held intelligence with Mutius in designing his death; and some body has so strongly perswaded him that this unfortunate prince was carried by an excess of love to conspire against him, that the Queen of Hetra∣ria and my self have no small trouble to restrain his in∣dignation. How! Madam (said Herminius) is it possible for Porsenna to suspect the most vertuous Prince in the World of having had such a design as this! Yes (answer'd she) and the case is so much the more cruel, because he will not yet tell by what way he came to be perswaded of this belief. Although none doubts, but that 'tis a contrivance of the cruel Tullia. But can credit be given to a Woman (said Cesonia) that has pass'd with her Chariot over the body of her Father? It seems she is believ'd (answer'd the Princess) being Aronces is a prisoner, and Por∣senna yesterday said openly, the Prince his Son was a Parricide. Wherefore being desirous to serve him in all that I am able (added she) I am come to see the Prince my Brother, to get him to go to Mutius and oblige him to assist us to justifie Aronces, who is ac∣cus'd of being an abettor of his intended assassinate. But as ill fortune will have it, though Artemidorus has sent to enquire for him at his own house, he is not to be found in any place. Yet I met him last night in the streets (said Herminius) I saw him too (added Themistus) but it was out from my Windows this morning, and he was on horse-back in a Countrey∣habit with two slaves only. If he be gone far (answer'd Lysimena) it will prove ill for Aronces; for his ab∣sence would be interpreted as a flight, and he would be thought to have conspir'd with him, instead of designing only to deliver Rome. And therefore (ad∣ded it) it is very fit to inquire at his house whither he is gone. I shall take that upon me (said Herminius) for one of my attendants is a great Camrade of one of his. And accordingly Herminius sent one of his fol∣lowers forthwith to get information of that which Lysimena desir'd to know. But word was brought her, that having had a long conversation with Publicola, he departed very discontented, without acquainting any whither he went. This caus'd much regret in all the company. However I cannot (said Herminius then) think it possible that Porsenna will put Aronces to death. I will not believe it (answer'd the Princess of the Leontines) but I cannot choose but fear it. Ne∣vertheless Porsenna is a very noble Prince, and indu'd with humanity; but the cruel Tullia terrifies me, and all the Tarquins (saving Titus) make me appre∣hensive of the worst. 'Tis true, there are divers e∣minent persons which protect Aronces; for the gene∣rous Melintha takes all opportunities to serve him, and the fair Hesilia who lives with Galerita, does no less. Lusilius and a Brother of his, are as careful of his interests; Titus and Telanus imploy all their en∣deavours for him, and the Lovers of Terentia, and Aurelisa omit nothing that may conduce to his assi∣stance. As for Galerita, she uses all the prudent arts possible, to serve him; and for my part were I his Sister, I could not do more than I do. But, Madam (said Berelisa) does Clelia know what Aronces is accus'd of? I believe she does (answer'd Lysimena) and that which renders her more worthy of pity, is, that she is unable to afford the Prince any redress, and that to her discontent, Sextus is again become as a∣morous of her as ever, and perhaps more than ever he was of Lucretia. So that she is very much to be pi∣ty'd; for though Porsenna ought not to violate the Law of Nations, and so 'tis probable the Hostages are in safety in the Camp, yet she has some very disconso∣late hours, and the Queen of Hetruria and my self have desir'd Lucilius and Telanus to take especial care of guarding these twenty fair Romans. Since the ge∣nerous Melintha, Lucilius and his illustrious Brother (reply'd Herminius) are Aronces's friends, I am very much comforted. Being I was not well (said Berelisa) when Lucilius came hither, I did not see him; but I have heard much good spoken of him. Too much you could not (answer'd Lysimena) and to let you know what manner of persons these two illustrious friends of Aronces are, I will describe them to you. And

to begin with him that was not at Rome, whose name is Theomenes; you may know that 'tis not possible to be endu'd with more vertue than he is. I need not tell you that his extraction is noble, for you are not ignorant that he is Brother to the generous Melintha; you know his family is very ancient, and that his Fa∣ther was a man of eminent worth. As for his person∣age, he is of an indifferent stature, his Hair is Ches∣nut, his eyes black, his visage round, and if one well observe it, he has something in his Physiognomy so pretty and good together, and he always smiles so per∣tinently, that sometimes he makes it appear in a mo∣ment that he understands things which could not be re∣lated in a day if any one should attempt it. Theome∣nes has receiv'd from Nature a great stock of wit, especially of that which is judicious and discreet, which examines and sounds the depth of things, which will neither affect nor chuse any thing without know∣ledge; of that wit, I say, which meddles with nothing without calling the judgment to its assistance. And nevertheless Theomenes wants not a lively and quick fansie, and he is one, whose conjectures resolve the most difficult things with the greatest facility imagina∣ble. I have seen him sometimes in places where you would have said he took no heed to what pass'd, and yet he not only observ'd even the very least things that were spoken or done there, but he divin'd the most secret interests of all that were present in the compa∣ny. Theomenes has not only a very piercing and solid wit naturally, but he has improv'd it with great dili∣gence. So that he judges well of all things, he accu∣rately understands handsome composures, and never condemns or applauds any thing, for which he cannot give a good reason. In the beginning of his life he compos'd very amorous and delightful Verses, and he makes such still when he pleases; he speaks very exactly, and his conversation is extremely pleasing. For no argument of discourse comes amiss to him, from Husbandry to Astrology, and from the most jovial Gallantry to the sublimest Policy. And for my part, I have sometimes remain'd astonisht to see that Theomenes equally well understood both impor∣tant and inconsiderable affairs, and to find that so wise a man as he, did not neglect to be perfectly in∣form'd of all the follies of his Age. If the profession Theomenes has chosen had not oblig'd him to a particu∣lar restraint, his soul would have been capable of very much love, but such a love as is real, tender, firm and generous together. But his fortune having dis∣pos'd of him after another manner, he understands love at present only in others, but has abandon'd his heart to friendship, which has prov'd very happy to him, for he has many illustrious friends of both sexes, by whom he is greatly esteem'd and belov'd. He is by natural inclination officious, equitable, good and generous. He is exact both in small and great matters, he knows when 'tis fit to engage couragi∣ously in the interests of those he loves, to concern himself for their honour, to resent injuries done to them, to love all that they love, to hate all that they hate, and to disdain all such as do not esteem them. He is none of those people who would prevaricate in cer∣tain occasions, who would preserve both Friends and Enemies, and who without distinguishing the virtu∣ous from them that are not such, sometimes fail those that never deserted them. On the contrary Theome∣nes is faithful in all occasions, sincere in all transacti∣ons, and always very sensible of whatever concerns his true Friends.

perhaps I insist a little too long in commending Theomenes, for this excellent qualification of his; but I confess 'tis because it is so very rare in these days, and because I believe it necessary for a man of honour. For I conceive when our chief Friends tell us they have enemies to fight with, the first thing to be ask'd them, is, Where they are? and not, Who they are? For, be they who they will, we ought to be absolute∣ly against them. But on the contrary, when Friends of the second Order come to tell us they have ene∣mies, we must first ask them, who they are? that so we may be never in danger of doing any thing against our true Friends, which we know well can never be in the wrong. But as for Theomenes, he so perfectly understands all the rules of true friendship, and his heart is so naturally addicted to follow them, that 'tis scarce possible for him to fail in any of them. Moreover, Theomenes is gentle, sociable, compla∣cent, wise, and discreet. He has both moderation and equity, he conforms himself to the World, and diverts himself with it, and he knows how to enjoy in solitude all the pleasures which it affords. He knows how to make the Court a Theatre to entertain him; and, which is most commendable, he knows so to live there, that his vertue is not alter'd by all the bad Examples which he sees in it. Thus you see what a person Theomenes is, who besides all I have said of him, has so great an inclination to honour all that are indu'd with vertue, that it may be affirm'd, that if he were Master of all the favours which are in Fortunes bestowing, not one vertuous person should have cause to complain of her. For my part (said Berelisa) I am already Theomenes's Friend, though I never saw him. Certainly (said Clidamira) you need no more to gain him than seeing of him, for you never desir'd to get any thing but it became yours. Berelisa is so charming (answer'd Themistus) that the power you say she has is not to be wonder'd at. For my part (said Herminius) who have the honour to know Theomenes, since the making of the Peace, I dare assure that the Princess of the Leontines has not flat∣ter'd him, and that she has made his Picture exactly like. I beseech you, Madam (said Berelisa) tell me too what Lucilius is, who has been so much talkt of at Rome within these few days. He is such a person (answer'd the Princess of the Leontines) that no Lover, be he never so deserving, but ought to fear having him for his Rival. But since you have not seen this illustrious Brother of Melintha and The∣omenes neither, I must tell you that he is of a tall per∣sonage, well made, and of a goodly presence. His gesture is sufficiently careless, his air very noble, his access serious and civil, his Physiognomy happy, sage, and agreeable, his hair chesnut, his Visage of a pe∣culiar form, and his Nose a little rising. As for his eyes they are azure, sweet, sprightly, but not great, They have a certain faintness in them too, which ren∣ders them very sutable for those passionate glances which make things understood in a moment, and yet they have in some occasions so jolly a smile, that 'tis apparent the heart of Lucilius may as well be capable of a sensible joy, as of a violent grief. His Complexi∣on is good, for a man, and he has a little natural mark under his left Eye, which would well sure with a Beauty, and is graceful to his countenance. Lucilius is neat, he attires himself like a man of Quality, and so as agrees well with his person; and if so worthy a person as he may be commended for small accom∣plishments, I say, there are many fair Ladies who would

wish they had hands as white as his. But indeed, I have too much to tell you of his Wit, his Courage, and his Virtue, to detain you longer with the description of his person. Know then, that Nature has been liberal to Lucilius in giving him an extraordinary Wit, a Fancie of unmeasurable extent, and a judgment which so well governs both, that he never speaks any thing in conversation, of which he needs to repent. But in∣deed his Wit is one of those which might well dispense with learning any thing; because considering things in themselves, their own reflections instruct them better than they can be by all the Books in the world. For which cause Lucilius has spent no great number of years in study; but Travel, War, the Court, and his own Reason have been his Masters. Neverthe∣less, he has read very much, and there are few ex∣cellent pieces of knowledge, which he does not un∣derstand; but he has read out of inclination, and not out of obedience, as ordinarily all young per∣sons do, that are design'd to be well educated. How∣ever, the Court, War, Travel, and his own Reason have so well instructed him, that 'tis believ'd he owes all his accomplishments to learning; so well he un∣derstands all things, and speaks so rationally of every thing that can be offer'd to discourse. Lucilius's par∣ticular virtue is an incomparable fortitude, free from all the defects which are incident to the Valiant; for he is a stranger to vanity. He is gentle, civil, and moderate; nor did ever any other hate false glo∣ry, and love true, so much as he. Moreover, Lucilius is of an admirable equal temper; for his Friends always find him the same, and though he ap∣pears serious, and his constitution inclines a little to melancholy, yet he loves all allowable pleasures. The jollity and mirth of his Friends please and divert him, to which he himself also contributes as much as they desire, and is never refractory towards them. Lucilius has a sense of honour, and generosity, and he is con∣stant in Love and Friendship. He has a firm Soul in adversity; and whereas his Fortune has not been al∣ways happy, but he has met with several difficult en∣counters, been wounded and taken Prisoner in War, travel'd both by Sea and Land, his virtue has been seen to the proof, and 'tis known that he hath come off with honour in all occasions, to which Fortune led him. In brief, Lucilius is valiant amongst the valiant, learned amongst the learned, gallant amongst the Gallants, and equally prudent towards all. His Natural inclina∣tion has always carried him to Poetry and Love, and these two sentiments are so much the more ingrafted in his heart, for that they subsist there one by another; for if Love has caus'd him to make Verses in the begin∣ning of his life, I account it not impossible, but that, in case he lives to that age in which love is no longer in season, his inclination towards Verses may also induce him to write of Love; because Poetry and Love have such a sympathy, that they can seldom be divided one from the other. But I beseech you, do not imagine that Lucilius makes such Verses as favour a little of the condition of the Authors, which may perhaps be call'd Gentile Verses; because for the most part persons of that Quality are not skill'd enough in such things to make them well. More intelligent per∣sons therein than my self, profess, that Lucilius com∣poses Verses which might deserve Homer or Hesiod for their Author. For there is a good Fancie, Wit, Strength, and so charming a Harmony in them, that all the world is ravish'd with them. His descriptions are so handsome, so Poetical, and so Natural, that you would think you verily beheld all that he represent. If he paints the shadow of a Forest, he deludes the imagination; if he represents the Sea in a Tempest, the Rocks, and a Shipwrack, the hearts of the Readers tremble at what he describes. If he builds a stately Temple, you would think Apollo himself had been the Architect of it; and if he represents an unfortu∣nate Lover, his unhappinesses excite pity, and sighs from his relation; and because Sadness and Love to∣gether have a wonderful operation in Verse, he very rarely separates them; not but that when he is mind∣ed, his Muse is agreeably debonair. One of the most curious Wits of his age having made a very ingenious and gallant Dialogue (after the example of Ana∣creon, who made one between a Dove and a Passen∣ger) wherein he introduces a little Bird which re∣turns every year in the Garden of one of his She-Friends, this work afterward occasion'd Lucilius and Theomenes to compose the most delightful Verses in the world, whose natural, pleasant, and sprightly Stile, argues that nothing is impossible to them. As for Love, Lucilius understands all the exquisiteness of it, and never was a Lover seen, whose sentiments have been more tender than his. He can love constantly, even without being lov'd; absence rather augments than diminishes Love in his Soul, and 'tis not easie for infidelity itself to extinguish a passion in his breast. He loves with ardour and respect, he makes himself pleasures and torments which other Lovers would not think of, and he has sentiments so full of Love, that no other ever had the like. I have heard him say, that one day being at Sea, a terrible Tempest arose, which almost sunk the Ship he was in, in view of a Castle which stands upon a Rock, at the foot of which there was great likelihood it would be wrack'd, for the wind violently drive it on that side, and the Rud∣der was broken. In this condition, knowing that his Mistress was in that Castle, instead of abandoning his mind to fear like the rest, or so much as mind∣ing what course the Marriners took to preserve them∣selves from perishing, he lean'd against the foot of the Mast, and took pleasure in thinking that if he were Shipwrackt in that place, the waves might carry his body to the foot of the Rock, where his Mistress going oftentimes to walk, might see it and bedew it with her tears; and this thought so wholly possest him, that he observ'd nothing at all that was done to resist the tempest. But through excess of love, he slighted the danger and death it self. But, in fine, 'tis enough to tell you that Lucilius can be as perfect a Lover as a Friend; for 'tis to tell you in few words that he is a perfectly worthy person, and deserves to be Brother to the generous Melintha. I agree with you (said Plotina) and if all men were like him, I think those Ladies were to be excus'd that suffer'd themselves to be lov'd by them. After this Lysimena rise up, and prepar'd to return to the Camp: but before she de∣parted, all the company entreated her to continue to protect Aronces and Clelia, which she promis'd to do with great sincerity. After which she drew Berelisa apart, and speaking low to her, I have a while since so discover'd Clidamira to Artemidorus (said she to her) that you need not fear he will be unjust towards you. However I counsel you to hasten to make your voyage to Praeneste, for 'tis possible that in that place the Gods will change the heart of Clidamira who alone at this time hinders our return to Leontium, though she makes shew of negotiating in behalf of the Prince my Brother and my self. Berelisa was desirous

to know a little more precisely what Lysimena had told Artemidorus; but perceiving she hastned to de∣part, she was contented only to thank her for the agreeable intelligence she gave her; after which Ly∣simena return'd to the Camp, which was much moved at the imprisonment of Aronces, there being no per∣son that could so much as suspect him of ever having had the thought to conspire against Porsenna. But what was very glorious for this Prince, assoon as the rumour was spread abroad in Rome, all the people re∣membring Aronces had been the cause of winning the Battle in which Brutus was slain, murmur'd highly against Porsenna, and without considering that the King had Hostages in his hands, or thinking of the con∣sequences of this affair, they declar'd boldly, that it was fitting to break the Peace, and go and demand A∣ronces of the King of Hetruria. All the worthy persons of the Senate were as sensibly affected with the un∣happiness of Aronces, and judging that they could do nothing more dangerous to this Prince than to testifie their zeal towards him, they restrain'd the people as much as they could. But being they could not hinder them from speaking in pity of Aronces and complaint against Porsenna, Tullia, who had in∣telligence of these murmurings, made use of them to confirm her accusation of Aronces, by informing Por∣senna that the Prince had more friends in Rome than in his Army. Whereupon Porsenna's mind being much incens'd against Aronces, he could not endure that any one should speak to him in his behalf. Which ne∣vertheless Galerita and the Princess of the Leontines did not cease to do; the latter of which was not re∣strain'd by Zenocrates's jealousie from doing her ut∣most for Aronces, scarce any besides her self daring to urge Porsenna boldly in his favour. I beseech you, my Lord (said she to him at her return from Rome) suffer me to tell you that you do a very great wrong in ac∣cusing Aronces of a crime whereof no body suspects him capable, and you do no less in giving credit to all that Tullia says to you, who, you know, has neither virtue nor probity, who is subtle and cruel, and who hates Aronces and Clelia. I know all that you tell me (answer'd Porsenna) but it does not justifie Aronces; and though Tullia be wicked, that does not hinder but that Aronces is an unnatural Son, and a Parricide, in whose heart love has extin∣guisht all the sentiments of nature and virtue, and who looking upon me as an invincible obstacle to his imaginary felicity, has design'd to purchase it with my death. But, my Lord (reply'd Lysimena) how do you know Aronces has been author of such a de∣sign, and what proofs have been given of it? I have understood (answer'd Porsenna) that Aronces during his imprisonment in the Island of Saules, underwent that usage with very much impatience, though he al∣ways spoke with respect to those I sent to him; I have also been inform'd that he corrupted him that guarded him, that he went secretly to Rome, and had some private conferences in a Garden with divers per∣sons: I have further known that during the Siege he never lost any occasion to favour the Romans in things which were not absolutely against the order of War. I have been advertis'd too that having taken prisoners on the day the Bridge was assaulted, he remitted them, and writ something in his Tablets which he deliver'd to one that he releas'd: and lastly, I have spoken with two of those three hundred Conspirators Mutius told me of, who declare that they were se∣veral times imploy'd to make the confederacy be∣tween Mutius and him, and that Aronces pro∣mis'd to secure him from perishing in the attempt. And indeed there must needs have been some secret intelligence between them, which I have not yet dis∣cover'd; for when Mutius had slain him whom he took for me, none offer'd to take him; and if I had not sent my guards for that end, Mutius had escaped. Besides, Aronces was in effect partly the cause that I pardon'd Mutius. But, my Lord (reply'd the Princess) if Aronces had been of that conspiracy, 'tis to be believ'd he would have better instructed Mutius, so that he should not have taken another for you. Did the Gods favour crimes (answer'd Por∣senna) the criminals would never do any thing impru∣dently: but since they do not, they oftentimes in order to their punishment, permit those that would commit a wicked action to be blinded and deceiv'd in their judgments. So Mutius hapning to be mis∣taken by the purple Robe of the person he slew, be∣cause it was forgotten to tell him that this man's office allow'd him to wear one; it may be said, that he was deceiv'd happily for me, and unfortunately for Aronces. But, my Lord (reply'd the Princess of the Leontines) I do not yet see his crime well prov'd; for the two men who accuse him, may be suborn'd to do it. I would to the Gods, generous Princess (said he to her) that these people were false witnesses: but to speak the truth, all probabilities are against Aronces. For the obstinacy of Mutius not to name his complices, sufficiently argues that there was some one amongst them whom I might cause to be punisht; if all the Conspirators had been Romans, there was no reason wherefore he should conceal their names from me. But, my Lord, (answer'd Lysime∣na) the most general opinion is, that Mutius told you a lye to induce you to the peace, and that he was the sole person concern'd in the design of assassinating you. I can believe (reply'd Porsenna) that there were not three hundred of them, but I shall never believe that Mutius was alone. 'Tis also added (continu'd he) that to perswade Mutius to this attempt, Aron∣ces promis'd him to grant peace to Rome, after my death, without other conditions than that of putting Valeria and Clelia into his power, engaging to bring him to marry the first afterwards. But, my Lord (said Lysimena) if Aronces had been so wicked as to desire to take away your life, what need had he of Mutius, and why should he not rather have sub∣orned one of your guards? That was not the safest course (answer'd Porsenna) for by that means he might perhaps have come to be suspected: but in the other way, taking away my life by the hand of a Roman, the action would seem to proceed out of zeal for the delivering of Rome, and would not at all reflect upon Aronces. But Love alone put them upon this crime; and to manifest to you that 'tis so (added he) I am newly inform'd that Mutius is fled. Judge then whether after this, I have reason to doubt of their testimony who accuse Aronces. And to the end you may doubt of it less, see this Letter from Clelia to Aronces, which was found in his Chamber, and must needs have been deliver'd him by one of his Guards. Lysimena taking it, knew the hand of Clelia, in which she had seen several Letters; and opening it, found these words.

Clelia to Aronces.

AS Criminal as you are, I do not cease to pity you; and notwithstanding your Crime, I shall still make more ardent Vows for your liberty, than I should do for my own.

This Letter no doubt seems to make against Aron∣ces (said Lysimena) but, my Lord, two persons that love have so many little contests which embroil them together, that it ought not to be concluded from hence that Clelia knows Aronces is a criminal against you. On the contrary, it is to be thought, that if she did, she would not have written to him in these terms. You are a strange person, Madam (answer'd Porsenna roughly) to attribute judgment to persons prepossess'd with a great passion. However, all that I can do for Aronces (added he) is to defer his pu∣nishment; for I confess to you, I would willingly con∣vict him by Mutius himself. Were it not that Hostages ought to be inviolable, I would use Clelia in such a manner that perhaps I might come to know many things by her, though I do not believe she was privy to the whole secret of the Conspiracy. On the con∣trary, I imagine that perhaps Aronces being unwil∣ling to lose the merit of his Crime in her esteem, has only told her something of it since. In the mean time, I have two men who will maintain that he is culpable. But, as I told you, I will cause Mutius to be sought after, and oblige Publicola who affects him not, to force him to declare the truth. After which I will give as great an example of Justice, as Brutus did, when he beheld his own Sons put to death; for I will not be surpass'd by a Roman. Ah! my Lord (said Lysimena) you make me tremble with fear, to hear you speak in this manner. I beseech you, examine things well, remember that appearances are fallacious, and rather believe all that the great actions of Aron∣ces, than that which the cruel Tullia tells you, who is accustom'd only to artifices and wickedness. For, do you think, my Lord (added she) that this Prince has any great tenderness for your life after you have granted peace to Rome? and ought you not rather to fear that she designs only to ingage you in a Crime? Be it how it will (answer'd Porsenna) that which she tells me, seems to me to be true; all conjectures are against Aronces, who cannot be happy so long as I live; and I will not be prevail'd with, either by your prayers or tears, the murmurs of all my own Subjects, or the complaints of the Romans (which moreover testifie Aronce's intelligence with Rome) nor even the secret sentiments of Na∣ture which I feel in my breast in spight of my self. But, my Lord (reply'd Lysimena) how comes it that those two men who accuse Aronces, inform you of a past danger, of an attempt that has fail'd, and are their own accusers? They could not have access to me (answer'd he) before the business was executed; af∣terwards they reveal'd it to the prince of Messene, to inform me of it, which yet he did not, undoubtedly because he would not hurt Aronces. But for that they apprehend I knew nothing of the truth, they ad∣dress'd themselves to Tullia, to whom I granted their pardon on condition they told me all they knew of the Conspiracie. But where are those men, my Lord? (said Lysimena) They are in a sure place (answer'd Porsenna) till I cause Aronces to be pub∣likly condemn'd. You know (added he) I had a purpose to make a Marriage between you and him; but, Madam, you have too great a virtue, to have a Parricide given you for a husband, and the Gods, no doubt reserve you a better fortune. In the mean time speak no more to me of him, and for∣bid Galerita to intercede in his behalf; for the more he is pleaded for, the more I shall hasten his punishment.

After this Lysimena was constrain'd to be silent, to retire, and go to augment the sorrow of the Queen, by relating to her this discourse with Por∣senna. Lysimena's sadness appearing manifestly in her countenance as she came away from the King of Hetruria, all the Court was in fear for Aronces; and the rumor of it spreading abroad in all places, was aug∣mented in the Camp.

Tullia being thus become necessary to Porsenna, not only because it was by her means that he could convict Aronces, against whom he was extremely in∣cens'd, but also because his own Army being muti∣nous against him, he fear'd he should have need of Tarquin's Troops; Sextus went and came continu∣ally to the Quarter of Porsenna, whereby he extremely molested Clelia, who was incredibly sorrowful to see his passion for her increase in his heart. Not but that she avoided his sight as much as she could; but in the case things were in, she knew not where to find any protection. For the sentiments she had concerning the Princess of the Leontines would scarce suffer her to speak to her. But the greatest of her griefs was to un∣derstand Porsenna's sentiments concerning the Prince his Son, the correspondence of Tullia with that King, and the care that was taken to guard Aronces diligently. For this unfortunate Prince, as extremely belov'd as he was, could find no way to communicate his mind to Clelia, in answer to the Letter which he had receiv'd from her; for Telanus being become suspected, durst not come near one of his guards. Cle∣lia had also another discontent, in not seeing her friends of Rome so often as formerly; for in this conjun∣cture, a tumult being both in the City and the Camp, the Consuls caus'd Horatius, Herminius, Aemilius, Octavius, Spurius, and all the other Romans to for∣bear visiting the twenty fair Roman Ladies which were given in Hostage. Which was something difficult to make them consent to; but causing them to consider that if matters should fall cross, and they should be arrested, Clelia, Valeria, and all the rest would be in a worse condition than if they were at Rome, a sentiment of love induc'd them to resolve upon that which Policy could not. So that they were constrain'd to be contented with sending to know tidings of the persons which were dearest to them in the World. Themistus though prepar'd to go away with Merige∣nes, was nevertheless willing to stay some days. But as for Amilcar, out of particular priviledges he went and came continually from the Camp to Rome, and from Rome to the Camp. Artemidorus being much better began to go abroad, and made his first visit to Berelisa, who was to depart the next day to go with Clidamira to Praeneste, accompany'd by Anacreon, who would not leave them. This Prince being very civil, desir'd Berelisa's permission to see Clidami∣ra at her chamber; besides, (added he) I have something to say to her, which is material for her to know. Ha! my Lord (answer'd Berelisa) will you never leave this exact civility towards a person,

who has so unfaithful a heart? and can you still esteem her so much as to conceal from me her last weakness? Artemidorus blusht hereupon; for he did not imagine the Princess of the Leontines had told Berelisa any thing of that which she had inform'd him of. No, no, my Lord (added she) your silence is not at all obliging; for when men wholly cease to love an un∣faithful person, they are willing to publish their in∣fidelity. But no doubt because you cannot altoge∣ther quit your love to Clidamira, you are asham'd to let me know that she can never cease to deceive you. I must have confided in her words (reply'd Artemidorus) to be obnoxious to be deceiv'd by her. Wherefore then (said Berelisa) do you not tell me that she has a new correspondence with Meleontus? Because, being your sister-in-law (answer'd he) I respect you in her person; besides, as I have told you a hundred times, I conceive 'tis a piece of ho∣norable prudence for a man not to publish the weak∣nesses of a person whom he has lov'd, and who would still perswade him, that she does not hate him. But in the bottom of my heart, I protest to you, I slight her as much as I esteem you; I behold all her charms without having my heart affected with them; I look upon the testimonies of her affection as signs of weakness, or dissimulation; and I never lov'd you so much as I do at this present. Go therefore, Madam, confidently to Praeneste; for since the Gods are veracious, you can learn nothing there which will not be to your advantage. If you would have me believe you (reply'd Berelisa) tell me what you know concerning Clidamira. I know, Madam (answer'd he) that there is a great league between her and Meleontus, and that consequently neither the Princess my Sister nor my self are likely to be ever recall'd from our Banishment. 'Tis true, Cli∣damira being crafty, would perswade me that she deludes Meleontus, and entertains correspondence with him, only to do us service. Nevertheless, I know what I ought to think of it; but prudence requires us to dissemble as well as she; for she has a great influence upon the mind of Meleontus; Me∣leontus is Master of that of the Prince; and Me∣leontus too, as you know, hates Lysimena, because he has lov'd her too much. Believe me (reply'd Berelisa) one cannot satisfie so many duties at once, and excessive prudence is not always compatible with excessive Love; to be a good Citizen, a great ob∣server of the Laws, never to fail in any duty to Re∣lations, Friends, Superiors, and fair comportment, is to have too many things to do; and in such cases, 'tis frequent to fail towards a Mistress. Nevertheless, according to the Laws of Love, a man ought to be ca∣pable of failing in every thing rather than in that. But you do not consider, Madam, (said Artemidorus) that your interest is join'd with mine in this case. I know what you say (answer'd Berelisa) but I confess I know as well too, that when a man does not hate that which he once lov'd, he loves it still. On the contrary (reply'd the Prince) hatred is many times but a disguis'd Friendship, and indifference is a true proof of an extinguish't affection. I confess (an∣swer'd Berelisa) that a clear indifference is a sign there is no more Love; but when this indifference is ac∣companied with an exact civility, believe me, my Lord, believe me, if he that is capable of it loves no longer, 'tis possible at least that he may love again. But, in brief, without shewing you further my weak∣ness in not being able to conceal the discontent you cause me, I will go to Praeneste, to learn what shall be told me concerning your sentiments, which your self do not know so well as to inform me of them. Ah! cruel person, that you are (cry'd he) why do you speak to me in this manner? Think you, I have forgot all that I promis'd you? think you, I can compare Clidamira to Berelisa? and do you believe I have not observ'd the difference between her sentiments and yours during my sickness? Clidamira so well knows how to counterfeit (answer'd Berelisa) that perhaps you believe she was as sad as I, to see your life in danger. No, no, (reply'd Artemidorus) I am not mistaken in Clidamira; I have seen her put on an affected negligence, to seem more sorrowful; which yet did not move me: I have seen her compose her eyes, summon up tears, and make sighs, which proceeded more from her will than her heart; in brief, I have always seen her decently attir'd in her negligence, and in the greatest extremity of my sickness; nor did I ever see her relinquish the care of her beauty a moment, even then when she believ'd I was not far from death. Ha! my Lord (inter∣rupted Berelisa) you would not have seen or ob∣serv'd any thing of all this. You are very unjust (answer'd Artemidorus) to turn to poyson all that I speak to cure you. For at the same time I observ'd all that I have told you, I saw a real sorrow painted in your countenance, I beheld true tears fall from your fair eyes, I heard you sigh with tenderness, I mark'd the carelesness of your attire, sufficiently to be perswaded that you did not remember that then you were fair; and if I dare speak it, I saw your heart affected enough, to believe that perhaps my death would have caus'd yours. And will you quarrel with me after this, Madam? and not permit me to dissem∣ble a little with Clidamira for your interest? I know not what to answer you (said she) but I know well, I cannot endure that Clidamira should hope to be lov'd by you, and 'tis only to deprive her of that hope that I go to Praeneste. For when I consider well upon it, I cannot believe you should make an ill choice between an unfaithful person and Berelisa. After this Artemido∣rus spoke so many obliging things to Berelisa, that she consented he should go bid Clidamira adieu, on con∣dition that she should come into her chamber a mo∣ment after him. And accordingly the Prince was no sooner enter'd into it, but Berelisa was conducted thither by Amilcar, who came to take leave of these two fair persons which were to depart the next day. A∣nacreon and Cesonia enter'd presently after, so that Be∣relisa had the satisfaction to see that Clidamira could not bid Adieu to Artemidorus in private. Whereby her mind being more at liberty, her conversation became more agreeable. That which gave occasion to render it such, was this; Clidamira had had a Dream which disquieted her, and being so weak as to believe that Dreams are always of a good or bad presage, she complain'd to Cesonia of having slept ill. Alas! (said she) if you knew what a Dream I had, you would not wonder at it. How! (cry'd Amilcar) is it possible a bad Dream should cause Clidamira to have an unquiet night? What? (said she in some astonishment) does not Amilcar, who has so much wit and is so learned, know that some Dreams are cer∣tain predictions? I know (answer'd he) all that can be known concerning Dreams, and if I should make you the History of them, you would see that I am not ignorant therein. I know that Homer says, Dreams, and particularly those of Kings are sent from

Heaven, that many excellent Philosophers have be∣liev'd, the Gods distribute them to men, and that Py∣thagoras, who made them a great Mystery, learnt the Art of interpreting them, especially amongst the Ae∣gyptians and Chaldeans. I know that there are Tem∣ples Built on purpose to receive the inspirations of Dreams, that in Aegypt people go to sleep in the Temple of Serapis, to the end to have Prophetical Dreams, and that great care is taken there to record all Dreams which a fortuitous event has verifi'd. More∣over, I know what a Dream Mandana had, which pre∣sag'd the power of Cyprus; but being an African, and not oblig'd to believe that which people believe in Aegypt or Persia, any more than what Pythagoras be∣liev'd, I declare to you, that I laugh at all the Dreams in the World. For my part (said Anacreon, feigning himself of Clidamira's opinion) I assure you I am not of your mind, for this last night I had a Dream, the consequence of which will occasion me much trouble. Oh! I beseech you (said Clidamira) tell me what you Dreamt of. Me thought (answer'd he with a se∣rious countenance) about midnight, Cupid, who ne∣ver sleeps, came to knock at my chamber door. I askt him who knockt, and he answer'd me, 'twas a poor child all wet with a storm, that desir'd shelter of me. Being I thought his voice very sweet, I pity'd him, and open'd the door to him; when by the light of my Lamp which was still burning, I beheld that this lovely child had two wings, a quiver upon his shoulder, and a bow in his hand. Then I wip'd his hair, caus'd him to come near the fire, and dry'd him with very much goodness; after which this little Traytor took his Bow, saying, he would see whether the rain had not spoil'd it. But, alas! he no sooner took it in hand, but he bent it, and shot an arrow straight into my heart. After which he laught at me and flew away, only telling me that his Bow was as it should be. Whereupon I was so enrag'd for having been deceiv'd, that remembring confus'dly, that people cry, Stop thief when any one is rob'd, I began to cry, Stop Cu∣pid, stop Cupid, so loud, that I wak'd. But the mischief is (added Anacreon) that at the first visit I made this day, this dream was turn'd into a History, by the charms of a person infinitely amiable. This is so jolly a dream (answer'd Berelisa smiling) that I condemn you to make an Ode upon it. If it were made long ago (said Amilcar) Clidamira would be much de∣luded; for she has heard this dream with as much at∣tention as if Anacreon had had it indeed. But I am confident he has said all this only to intimate to Clida∣mira that he is taken with her to day more than ordi∣nary. Since you have so well expounded my real senti∣ments (answer'd Anacreon) I will acknowledge what you have said. How? (cry'd Clidamira much di∣sturb'd) did not you dream as you have related, and are you of Amilcar's opinion that no heed is to be given to dreams? No question, I am Madam, (said Anacreon.) For my part (said Artemidorus) who scarce ever dream at all, I never cared much to reason upon dreams. As for me (said Berelisa) I have al∣ways found them so frivolous, false, extravagant and chimerical, that I shall easily rank my self on Amil∣car's side. And for my particular (said Cesonia) I confess, it has hapned to me to dream of things which have befallen me so exactly, that I know not what to think of them. Since chance (answer'd Amilcar) sometimes represents very regular Pictures in the Clouds, it is not to be wonder'd, if hazard brings to pass some things which are dream'd of. I have heard a Thuscan woman affirm that the most ancient manner of Divination was by dreams. She also told me that those which we have presently after repast, or in the second sleep, signifie nothing, but that those we have in the beginning of the morning, are the most certain; that the dreams of the Spring are more true, than those of the Autumn; and that it's more ordinary to dream in the new Season of the Year than in all the rest. Believe me (amiable Ce∣sonia) said Artemidorus, dreams are only a bare repre∣sentation of images. They are pleasant or sad, ac∣cording to the constitution when they are purely natu∣ral. Those which are mixt, have extrinsecal causes, which supply matter to the fansie; and this is the reason that many times we dream of things which we have seen, or thought on, and most of all of things which we desire. And certainly this last manner of dreaming has brought Dreams into such credit, when it falls out that we see the people by day whom we dream of by night. For many times our hearts desire or fear many things, which we are not sensible of; so that in sleeping, our fansie, which is mov'd by our desires and fears, without our consent, causes us to dream more of that which we fear or desire than of any other thing It is not therefore to be wondred if it sometimes comes to pass by chance, that we see those we dreamt of, because we usually dream of those people whom we cannot meet with. Since 'tis cer∣tain that we desire only that which may be hop'd, and fear only that which may possibly come to pass. I agree with you (said Amilcar) that Dreams may denote our inclinations, but I deny that they can pre∣sage our fortunes, unless as they proceed from our constitutions. For, they say, cruel people are wont to have terrible dreams as well as those that are melan∣cholick. So that when it falls out that the dreams and adventures of these people have resemblance, it is not to be wonder'd at, forasmuch as they are produc'd by one and the same cause. I know well such as are skilful in dreams, say there are three sorts, which they distinguish and divide as exactly, as if they had travell'd into the Country of Dreams, as men do in∣to Asia. But to speak truth, they are mistaken; for if the Gods would advertise men of that which must betide them, they would do it more clearly. And besides (added he) when I see a Grey-hound asleep dream of a Deer, as I do of my mistress, and perhaps better too, I conclude that my dreams come from my temper alone, I set my mind at rest, and do every thing as if I had not dreamt at all. Indeed (added Berelisa) I know no more pleasant fansie than to think that the Gods await till we be asleep to advertise us so doubtfully of that which must happen to us; the Gods, I say, who are Lords of the World and of Events, who can change our wills as they please, and who inspire to us all that seems good to them. But, I beseech you (said Anacreon) what kind of dream is that which the fair Clidamira had? It is such (an∣swer'd she blushing) that I cannot tell it to any but Ar∣temidorus. This Prince then became sufficiently per∣plex'd; for he conceiv'd this was but a contrivance of Clidamira to speak to him apart before he went away. But though he much fear'd to offend Bere∣lisa, yet he could not resolve to answer Clidamira uncivilly before persons that were strangers. Where∣fore, beginning to speak, I am so little skilful in interpreting dreams (said he coldly,) that I see not why you should choose me rather than another. However, my Lord (answer'd she) I must needs

tell it you; and so approaching near, and speaking low to him; Do not fear (said she to him) that I am going to entertain you with my dreams; and if you have any justice left, consider (I conjure you) whilst Berelisa and I go to Praeneste, that your heart was mine before hers was yours, and that I ought not to be so generous as to procure your return to Leontium, with the certainty of never being lov'd by you. 'Tis too much, Madam, 'tis too much (answer'd he, not being able to restrain himself) to desire to be lov'd at the same time both by Meleontus and Ar∣temidorus. How? my Lord (said she) do you not understand that I endeavour'd to make Meleontus who is the Prince's Favourite, my Lover, only that I might be in a capacity to make your peace when I pleas'd? I understand very well (answer'd he) that Clidamira is ever desirous to gain all and lose no∣thing. But as far as I perceive, my Lord (said Berelisa blushing) you have dream'd as well as Clidamira, for you speak at least as much to her as she does to you. You have very well guess'd (answer'd Clidamira, who delighted to make Berelisa jealous) but Artemi∣dorus's dream is not so assuredly true as mine. Perhaps if he expounded yours (reply'd she hastily) it would not be granted to be more true than his. Believe me (said Amilcar to Clidamira) stay till you be at Prae∣neste for the explication of your dreams; for you will find there a Kinsman of the Priest of Fortunes Temple, who has so great a wit, that what he is ignorant of, is not known by any. But since you conceive (answer'd Clidamira) no heed is to be given to Dreams, you must think too that no explication can be given of them. I do so, (reply'd Amilcar) but I am strongly per∣swaded, he I speak of will convince you that none but Physicians can make good use of the dreams of their Patients, whereby they sometimes judge very certainly what humor it is that is predominant in them. I be∣seech you (said Berelisa, who sought only to inter∣rupt the conversation of Artemidorus with her Rival) give us recommendations to him you speak of. I will, Madam (answer'd Amilcar) but before I write to him (for I contracted a friendship with him during my travels) I have a desire to tell you what manner of person he is, that so if he does not please you, I may not lose a Letter. You are a good husband of your words (reply'd Berelisa) but however I con∣sent to what you desire. And so do I (added Artemi∣dorus) and for my part (said Cesonia) I entreat it of you; For I have heard a good character given of him by a Kinswoman of mine who was at Praeneste. As for me (said Anacreon) I shall be glad to know what kind of person an honest man is whom I am to see. There remains only Clidamira to entreat me (said Amilcar.) Since I do not oppose the consent of the company (an∣swer'd she) 'tis sufficient. Know then (said Amilcar) that Telantus is of a middle stature, has black hair, a pale complexion, very large eyes, a handsome mouth, an ingenious aspect, a sweet and careless air; he na∣turally loves the world and pleasures, but having a quick-sighted mind, he has by his prudence plac'd himself out of the reach of many accidents which might have render'd him unhappy. His wit is a little slow; but yet he speaks very agreeably, though he has no very sprightly fansie. If he followed his own inclination, he would be full of discourse; but he constrains himself partly out of wisdom and partly out of policy. Most commonly he does not speak his thoughts of what he sees, but when he pleases he speaks them admirably well. Yet he is subject to be prejudic'd; and without thinking himself to be so, he many times does injustice even when he believes himself most equitable; but this defect is not peculiar to him, and the greatest part of men are guilty of it. Indeed I saw him once have a very strange prejudice upon a certain occasion; for because he did not affect an ancient Priest of the Temple of Fortune, he judg'd that he did not speak well when he spoke in publick. And yet it is certain, that venerable old man charms all that hear him. He speaks with vehemence and elegance, his language is neither course nor affected, he knows how to joyn the Graces of Eloquence with the solidity of Morality; and if he is not always assur'd to perswade those that hear him, yet he is so to be heard with pleasure, even by such as are incapable to profit by his instructions. For all this, Telantus does not account him eloquent. Believe me (answer'd Be∣relisa) he is not the sole person that is liable to be pre∣judic'd, and 'tis more hard than we think, not to be so at all. When one is but a little (reply'd Amilcar) 'tis no great defect; but when so much as to account that evil which is good, and ugly which is hand∣some, 'tis a great imperfection in an elevated mind; for there is a great distinction to be made between an error proceeding from ignorance, and an error pro∣ceeding from prejudice. But to return to Telantus, I believe he has something in his heart that inclines him to be very amorous, and ambitious, and I am perswaded he has had great conflicts with himself to overcome these two sentiments. No doubt he has done well (said Berelisa) for they are many times the causes of great disquiet. That's certain (answer'd Berelisa) but withal they cause a thousand pleasures. Believe me (said Clidamira) neither all the ambitious nor all the prejudic'd are known, but sometimes we see people that make shew of not being so, who affect to despise ambition, to satisfie that which they have in their hearts. However it be (said Amilcar) I think men are not frequently deceiv'd who believe themselves always liable to error; and the surest way is to judge affirmatively of nothing upon appa∣rences. But to return again to Telantus, he is com∣placent and civil, he loves company, and particular∣ly that of Ladies, and I can assure you, that if he pleases he will write you pleasant Letters, as much Priest as he is; for I conceive this faculty is never lost after 'tis once gotten. I have further to tell you that Telantus believes as well as I, that 'tis no easie matter to find a great contentment without the assistance of Fortune. Thus, fair Berelisa, you see what a person the illustrious Telantus is; it remains for you to tell me whether you would have me write to him. You will do me a very great pleasure in so doing (answer'd she.) For my part (said Clidamira) I shall be glad to see him, but according to the character you give of him, I think I shall not speak to him about my dreams. After this, Artemidorus went away; but though Berelisa knew he would give Clidamira no new opportunity to speak to him, yet she was not fully sa∣tisfi'd with him, because she was solicitous to have him give her an account of what Clidamira said when she spoke to him apart. So that she look'd a little coldly upon him as he went out; which though his heart reproacht him with nothing, gave him some discontent; and therefore he writ to her the next morning. But he that carri'd the Letter being stopt by the way, Berelisa was gone her journey towards Prae∣neste with Clidamira and Anacreon, Artemidorus not being yet in a condition to travel. Neverthe∣less,

to repair the fault of him that he sent, he caus'd a slave of notable wit to depart immediately to Prae∣neste and carry Berelisa her first Letter accompany'd with another.

In the mean time Amilcar continu'd to seek out ways to serve Aronces, and so did Herminius, and all the virtuous gallants of Rome, excepting Horatius, who, how generous soever, could not be sorry for the unhappiness of his Rival. As for Zenocrates, his secret jealousie caus'd him to avoid speaking of Aron∣ces as much as he could, for fear it should be observ'd that he was less his friend than formerly. But though Amilcar would not altogether renounce his jollity, yet there were some hours, wherein he was pensive at least, if not sad. For besides the imprisonment of Aronces, and the trouble in which Plotina was, his mind was extremely perplex'd by an order brought him by an African lately arriv'd, to return to Carthage. He lov'd Plotina as much as it is possi∣ble to love, he had Friends at Rome very dear to him, and he had an especial Friend in his own Coun∣try, who at that time had great need of him. Thus duty towards his Master, affection to his Friend, the interest of Aronces and the love he had for Plotina sufficiently divided his heart, to cause those that knew him well, to observe some little alteration in his hu∣mour. Plotina soon perceiv'd it; and at first thought his resentment of Aronces's danger was the only cause of his discontent; and loving Clelia very well, he was sensibly concern'd in her sorrow: as indeed Amil∣car was extremely affected with the unhappinesses of Aronces and Clelia. But as love makes an exact dis∣covery of the sentiments of the person lov'd, Plotina at length knew Amilcar's disturbance proceeded from some cause of his own. At which being troubled, Whence comes it, Amilcar (said she to him) that I see something in your countenance which seems to tell me you are sad? Alas! amiable Plotina (an∣swer'd he) I see I can hide nothing from you, for I intended to dissemble the discontent which I have in my breast. But since you have discover'd it, I must let you know, that love does not torment me only in Italy, it persecutes me also in Africa in the person of an illustrious Friend who is become unhappy by it. I knew all the beginning of his love, and was some∣thing concern'd in it: but since I departed out of Afri∣ca, some things have befallen him, which excite me to pity him, and afflict me so much the more, for that I believe my presence is absolutely necessary to re∣dress the fortune of my Friend. Nevertheless, the affection I have for you is so strong, that I know not whether the command of a Master, and the misfor∣tunes of a Friend will be sufficient to oblige me to make a voyage into Africa. I say, a Voyage, Madam (added he) because at this present I account Rome my Country; for a Lover has no other but that of his Mistress. That which you say, is very obliging (reply'd Plotina) but being I am equitable and gene∣rous, I will not cause you to be deficient either to your Prince, or to your Friend. All that I desire of you is, that you will not depart till we be return'd to Rome, and Aronces be acquitted. We hope this will shortly be effected; for the Queen of Hetruria, the Princess of the Leontines, the generous Melintha, and the amiable Hersilia have signifi'd to my sister and me this morning, that they were going this day to make their utmost instance with Porsenna: I pro∣mise you more than you desire, Madam (said he to her) for I engage not to depart at all unless you com∣mand me. As he was speaking thus, Valeria enter'd, and told them Lucilius had sent word that all the Friends of Aronces were gone to intercede so urgent∣ly with Porsenna in his behalf, that a happy success was to be expected thereby. Which news something satisfying the minds of these two amiable Virgins, Plo∣tina told Valeria what Amilcar had said to her, and then intreated him to declare what unhappiness it was that had befallen his friend he spoke of. Since the misfortunes of others sometimes a little solace our own (said he) I will content your curiosity, and no doubt you will agree that my Friend is to be pity'd, that love is the same in all places, and that there is no infelicity so great, but that another may be found like it. After this, Valeria and Plotina knowing that Clelia was with Hermilia, gave order that none should interrupt them: and then Amilcar began to speak in these terms.

The History of Cloranisbes and Lysonice.

YOu have heard me speak so much of Carthage; and you are so well inform'd of all that relates to my Country, of which the persons are, whom I am to speak of, that I shall in a manner wholly for∣bear to speak any thing of the Original of Utica, its manners, magnificence, customs or gallantry, being the same with those of Carthage; for I presuppose that as I, being an African, am become a Roman for your sakes, so you being Romans are become half Africans for mine. I shall therefore only tell you, that Cloranisbes, whose adventures I am to re∣late, is of a very illustrious Lineage, and that he is one of the most worthy, couragious, accomplisht and agreeable persons in the world. He has a very noble air, a lofty countenance, and in brief, wants nothing that can get a man esteem, merit love or friendship. He has neglected no means to accomplish himself; for he has travell'd, and has been in Greece to learn all that could not be taught him in Africa. Nor has he done like some young persons, who seem in the beginning of their lives to design to acquire extraor∣dinary worth, but after they have learnt many things which are sutable for the world, they become idle and never practise any thing which they learnt. For my part I account those, that have attain'd some good qualities, and afterwards are in a long incertainty what they ought to do, to be as void of Reason as a Pilot, who should furnish a Ship with all things ne∣cessary for a long Voyage, weigh Anchor, noise Sayl, and then not knowing whither he would go, abandon himself to the pleasure of the Wind, and put himself in danger of being swallow'd up by a quick-sand, or split against a Rock. Yet the World abounds with such people, as have learnt the Art Military, and were never afterwards at the War; with others, who have had Dancing-Masters, and never go to Balls, and which is worst, with others who have learnt to speak several languages, and speak their own ill; and with others too, who are born in the world, and do not understand it. I crave your pardon for my compari∣son and my observations, but I could not refrain them; hereafter I will be more cautions of digressing so far from Cloranisbes. Know then, that having learnt all things requisite to the accomplishing of a brave man, he determin'd to pass his life at the Court, and to do all he could to obtain honour there.

Accordingly in the beginning of his manhood, a War being fallen out between Numidia and Massilia, he signaliz'd himself in it, and perform'd actions wor∣thy of great applause. So that the Prince of Car∣thage was pleas'd to take him into favour, and to re∣side about him. I need not put you in mind (amia∣ble Plotina, and charming Valeria) that this Prince is call'd so, only by reason he is descended from an Aunt of Dido, and that ordinarily he dwells at Utica; because I suppose you remember to have heard that 'tis only a Title which he wears, though he has no authori∣ty in Carthage. Nevertheless, he has great interest there, but he is a Soveraign only in his own State. So that he is really but Prince of Utica, though he is stil'd otherwise. This City is of a very strong situation, upon the shore of the Sea, and near a great River, thirty miles from Carthage. Its Original is very dubious, it has been ruin'd and rebuilt, it has chang'd its name two sun∣dry times, and it may be said, that 'tis one of the most inconstant Cities of the World in all things. 'Tis true, the air of the Country is apt to inspire levity, and therefore the changes are less to be wonder'd which happen in these places than in others. The Numidians and Massilians who are neighbours, are levity it self; and 'tis not altogether without Reason that people relie not too much upon the faith of the Africans. Not but that honesty is of every Countrey, and constancy is sometimes to be met with at Utica as well as at Rome. Yea, there is a Prophecie which af∣firms, that in this City shall one day be seen the great∣est example of constancy that ever was heard of, and that it shall be accounted a modern City, although it be very ancient. But since I know not what is to come I cannot assure you, whether this Prediction be true or false, but only that the Court of the Prince of Utica is very agreeable. For all the brave persons of Carthage go thither frequently to visit the Prince and most of the youth of Quality of Numidia come to learn gallantry under the Prince of Carthage. The Ladies there have noble aspects and delightful wits; and though there are few great Beauties amongst them, yet there are abundance infinitely amiable, and in∣deed scarce any unhandsome. They are all pleasing, merry, and gentle; but how lovely soever they were, Cloranisbes at his return from his Travels did not be∣come amorous. His mind was so fill'd with the Greek beauties that had charm'd him, and the gallantry of Athens and Corinth so strongly possess'd him, that he had nothing but ambition in his heart when he ar∣riv'd at Utica. So that the desire to please the Prince was the great spur to make him active. The Prince of Carthage had at that time a Sister much el∣der than himself, who taking a fancie to rule him ab∣solutely, had a strange jealousie of every one that came near him. Wherefore the merit of Cloranis∣bes causing her to be jealous of him, she secretly did him all the bad offices she could; though she deported herself civilly enough towards him before the Prince and the whole Court. But he was so amiable a per∣son, and the Prince had such a great inclination to love him, that her artifices were at first unprofitable. When she saw she could do him no hurt, she bethought her self to remove him from the Court by some hono∣rable way. And accordingly, as young as he was, she caus'd the Prince to send him to negotiate affairs of importance in Libya; at his return, a War hapning between Carthage and Numidia, he was made a Commander of the Forces which the Prince sent thither; but taking advantage of his ab∣sence, she caus'd a hundred things to be told the Prince, to render his fidelity suspected to him. She also cor∣rupted some Friends and ancient Domesticks of Clo∣ranisbes; after which, she caus'd some of her own dependants to suggest several things to the Prince a∣gainst Cloranisbes, which should induce him to believe that he was a man of boundless ambition, that he held intelligence with the King of Numidia, that he betray'd Carthage and him too, and that it was very dangerous to suffer him longer in the head of the Army. Where∣as nothing of importance was wont to be told the Prince, but he communicated it to the Princess his sister, in whom he absolutely confided, she made shew not to believe the informations given against Clora∣nisbes, and offer'd to justifie him. But in fine (said she to him with unparallel'd dissimulation) though I am perswaded Cloranisbes is innocent, yet 'tis requisite to act with as much prudence, as if he were believ'd cul∣pable; and therefore, my Lord, if I may counsel you, send a strict order to Cloranisbes to come immediately to you. If he comes, it will be fit to observe him and endeavour to discover the truth: if he does not, his disobedience will argue his guilt. The Prince judging this advice of the Princess reasonable, sent an express order to Cloranisbes to come forthwith to him, and to resign the command of the Forces to ano∣ther whom the Prince nam'd to him. But at the same time that this order was dispatcht away, this subtle Princess oblig'd those false Friends of Cloranisbes whom she had suborn'd and treacherous Domesticks to write to him to beware of coming. So that when Cloranisbes receiv'd the Prince's order, he received four tickets, which extremely perplex'd him; for, in the first he found only these words,

Very bad offices have been done you here; have a care, and distrust all things.

In another,

The Prince is much incensed against you; the Princess excuses you as much as she is able, but cannot appease him; take care of your affairs and your safety.

There was also a third, in which Cloranisbes found these words:

Your destruction is design'd, Cloranisbes, therefore do not trust to your innocence; for they which have power to ruine the innocent, make them criminal when they please.

But that which astonisht Cloranisbes most was the fourth, which spoke thus:

If you obey the Princes Order, you cannot escape imprisonment or death; this is all that can be told you by a Friend who hazards his own fortune to save you.

You may judge, Madam, in what a perplexity Clo∣ranisbes was; for he did not mistrust those who gave him this advice. But that which wholly perswaded him to think himself lost was, that the Princess of Car∣thage having cunningly caus'd a rumor to be spread in Utica, that if Cloranisbes came, he should be ar∣rested, he receiv'd also twenty other adviso's, and particularly one from so faithful a Friend, that he could not doubt of it. Yet his own inclination led him to trust to his innocence, and to go to the Prince. But having consulted two very prudent friends whom he had in the Army, they disswaded him from it. But if I do not obey (said Cloranisbes) I render my self suspected, and become culpable. Believe me (answer'd one of those that counsel'd him)

'tis better for a man to render himself suspect∣ed than miserable: but to take a middle course in this extremity, and to testifie that you design not to render your self Master of the Forces, leave the Army and go towards Utica; and whereas you have a house upon the frontier, feign your self sick, write to the Prince, that assoon as you recover you will go to him, and in the mean time your friends will do their utmost to discover what you are accus'd of, and justifie you to the Prince. This counsel seeming very prudent to Cloranisbes, he oppos'd his own incli∣nation, and follow'd the advice of his friends. So he left the Army, made shew of intending to go Utica, feign'd himself sick, when he was at his house upon the frontier, and writ to the Prince after the manner that he was counsell'd. But at the same time he answer'd all those that had gi∣ven him intelligence, and conjur'd them to send him what they could learn. Wherefore they that betray'd him shewing his Letters to the Princess, who endeavour'd to destroy him, she made use of them to perswade the Prince that he was not really sick, and to inform him what a curiosity he had to know all that was spoken of him at Utica. For though he spoke in his Letters as being in∣nocent, yet they contributed something to make him seem culpable, because they imply'd that he was not very sick, that he was desirous of intel∣ligence, and durst not trust himself. But to make the matter worse, this subtle Princess pretending to be his Friend, sent one of her own Physicians to him, to the end that if he were in health as she believ'd, he might inform the Prince of it; and that if he were sick, she might make him report that he was not. Now, for that a Feaver is not to be had at pleasure, Cloranisbes took his bed in∣deed, and carried himself like a sick man; but the Physician found that he was in health, and re∣ported so to the Prince, who no longer doubting but that Cloranisbes was guilty, was so exaspera∣ted against him, that all the intercessions of his true friends could not hinder the Prince from sending to forbid him coming near to Utica; for the house where Cloranisbes stay'd, was upon the frontier. So that Cloranisbes was banisht without knowing the cause of this severity against him. At first he was extremely afflicted; but having a great and firm Soul, he took a resolution on a sudden, and writ to his Friends to desire them not to trouble themselves further about making his peace, assuring them that he found his heart strong e∣nough to be able to live in solitude, and enjoy himself without being concern'd with the rest of the world. 'Tis true, there was a wise old man who contributed much to cause him to take this reso∣lution; for going to see one of his friends a days journey from his own house, he lost his way, and went cross the corner of a Forest. And find∣ing a mountainous and barren Countrey beyond, he perceiv'd some miserable Shepherds tilling a little corner of ground between the Rocks, and observ'd a venerable old man who liv'd in a Cave not far off, and who with a counte∣nance both melancholy and serene, said to them, as he beheld them, Alas! poor people! beware of rendring your fields fruitful, leave your land uncultivated, if you love quiet; for if your Countrey become good, you will soon have War. Cloranisbes who stopt to ask the way, having heard what this venerable old man said, seem'd surpris'd at it, and turning towards him, Tell me I pray (said he) for what reason you would make a desart of the Countrey you dwell in. Because (answer'd he) solitude is always in∣separable from desarts, barrenness upholds solitude, vertue and peace are in solitude preserv'd, and felicity found, if it be possible for men to be ca∣pable of it. This old man who was a Greek, though he spoke the African tongue, and whose name was Andronodorus, spoke this with so grave an air, that Cloranisbes believ'd that perhaps the Gods had caus'd him to meet with him for his comfort. Wherefore lighting from his horse, and giving him to the slave which follow'd him, he drew Andronodorus apart, and askt him, who he was? where he liv'd? what had caus'd the aver∣sion, which he had against the World? My Lord (said he to him) I was born at Samos, and I was banisht by Polycrates when he usurp'd the Soveraign Power, because he knew well I could not submit. So I departed from my Countrey with all that I could carry in a Ship, intending to see if it were possible for the monsters of A∣frica to be more inhumane than the men of my Countrey. For in truth, my Lord, I acknow∣ledge to the shame of mankind, I never found any thing but weakness, folly, injustice, and wick∣edness in all places where I have liv'd, and princi∣pally in those where wealth and plenty are to be met with. I have had a father who took no thought for any thing but his pleasures, I have had children who would have me mind nothing but theirs; my wife had vertue, but not goodness; my relations had no humanity, my friends were but little sincere to my interests, my domesticks were of small fidelity; and in sum, I may say, that in all places where I have liv'd, I have seen almost all others as unhappy as my self, though they did not think so. But fortune having caus'd me to suffer shipwrack upon the Coast of Africa long ago, and chance conducted me to a Cave on the side of this Forest which you have cross'd, I took it for my habitation, and have liv'd here since by the assistance of a slave, who escap'd drown∣ing with me, and with the help of some poor Fishers has till'd as much Land as is necessary for our sub∣sistence. So that this little Sanctuary being en∣compass'd with a very great extent of Land which is not husbanded, I have enjoy'd much tranquilli∣ty since I came hither, without conversing with any but the Priest of a Temple not far from hence, who taught me his language. But I see these poor people at work, will make my Desart ara∣ble; and so I look upon them as those that go about to destroy my felicity; for, in brief, if they bring me neighbours, they will bring me enemies.

Cloranisbes then admiring Andronodorus, desir'd him that he would lead him to his Cave; which at first he refus'd: but on a sudden checking himself, Come, my Lord (said he to him) come, for it is not fit for me to belye my self, and after having affirm'd that vertue may be preserv'd in solitude, to shew you only a wild and uncivil vertue. After this Androno∣dorus led Cloranisbes by a small path little trodden; before his Cave he found a little rustical Garden, but very neat, and in the Cave a Bed of Bulrushes woven together, Seats of the same, some Books

which he had borrow'd of the Priest, and Writing-Tables. Then Andronodorus took his turn to ask Cloranisbes, who he was? and this illustrious exile related his fortune to him. Upon which Andronodorus, who wisht he could make Hermits of all the men in the World, set himself to perswade him so earnestly not to offer to resist the will of the Gods, that he fell to tell him a hundred things, whereof I cannot refrain from telling you part. I beseech you (said he to Clo∣ranisbes) suffer not your self to run into that general error of all men, who will always force their destiny. Resign your self to the conduct of the Gods, and know that true Wisdom consists only in this. As long as I was in my own Countrey, I behav'd my self like a good Patriot; but since Fortune cast me into a strange one, without subsistence and without any sanctuary, I made my self one, and have found a safer in poverty and solitude, than I could have done elsewhere. For since I came hither, I have deceiv'd no person, and none has deceiv'd me. The error of all men, is blind∣ly to seek that which they have not; they who have no tranquillity, desire it, but do not that which is requisite to obtain it; and they who have, are weary of it, and think they should be happier in a more turbulent way of life. When we are children, we long to be a little advanced in age; when we are very old, we wish we could again become Children; and when we are in the prime age of our lives, we never con∣sider what we have been, nor what we must be, nor many times too, what we are; but only addict our selves to find out pleasures, which are so mo∣mentany, that we scarce know whether they are pleasures or no, because ordinarily sorrow follows them so close, that it extinguishes all their sweetness. Thus, Cloranisbes, you see what the World is, which you have so much regret to be banisht from. But, wise Andronodorus (answer'd he) as I am far from your age, so I am from your wisdom; and therefore I should find it a hard matter not to strive all I could against my bad fortune. But, who told you that it is bad? (said Andronodorus) do you know the se∣crets of destiny? and is it not your duty to conform your self to it? We have sometimes seen people think that they were out of their way, who in the mean time escap'd being overwhelm'd under the ruines of a house which had fallen upon them if they had follow'd the ordinary way. Therefore 'tis the grand secret, as I told you, to submit to the decree of Heaven, and to have so noble a soul, and so rational a mind, as to be always ready to pass from good to bad fortune, from riches to poverty, from health to sickness, from liberty to servitude, and from life to death. This certainly is that which Pythagoras intended to signifie by his Metempsychosis or transmigration of souls; for no doubt he only meant to intimate, that the soul of man could not be all things. 'Tis fit then not to resist our destiny, it behoves us to submit to it; if the Gods will that you live at Court, they will draw you thither, whether you endeavour it or no; and if they do not, you will but torment your self in vain. But in brief, not to repeat to you all the discourse of the solitary Andronodorus to Cloranisbes, I shall tell you that he comforted him, and that Cloranisbes re∣solving to comply with his fortune without torment∣ing himself more, contracted a friendship with this wise old man to whom he offer'd his house to retire into, which he would not accept, and return'd home without caring for any other counsel but that of Ar∣temidorus. And therefore he writ to his Friends at Utica, that they would give over soliciting for his revocation, telling them it was sufficient if they only maintain'd that he had done nothing to deserve his disfavour, and that he desir'd nothing more from their assistance. He writ this to them so earnestly, that they obey'd his pleasure; and as Princes easily enough forget what they do not see, and delight in, the Prince of Carthage no longer thought of Cloranisbes. For my part I much regretted him; for I was his Friend; but, in fine, it behov'd him to comfort himself for his absence, and I comforted my self sweetly enough with two or three Mistresses, which I courted about that time. Nevertheless, as jovial as you see me, I can assure you Cloranisbes was better pleas'd with me than with any of his Friends; for I had the confidence to ask the Prince's permission to go see him in his Desart, though I knew well enough that the Princess of Carthage was offended at it. In the mean time Cloranisbes delighted himself in his solitude with em∣bellishing his house, which he made very agreeable; he also addicted himself much to reading; and having slaves that were skill'd in Musick, he diverted him∣self very innocently. The first time I visited him, I found him so merry, so satisfied with his retirement, in so good health, and with such tranquillity of mind, that I took occasion to jest with him about it. How? (said I to him) Cloranisbes, so goodly a person, so full of wit, so rational, so fit for society and gallantry, be happy with Meadows, Rivers, Woods and Foun∣tains? What? can Cloranisbes be so jovial as I see him, without Nymphs, without Ladies, without Shepherdesses, and without having so much as one poor Iris? Yes (answer'd he, smiling) and I am so pleas'd in having no need of any but my self to be hap∣py, as no man can be more. I confess to you, I laugh'd at his wisdom; I gave him the hearing of all that his Hermite had said to him, but he did not con∣vert me; I left him to his opinion, and carried back my own. Six months after, I went again to visit him; but I found him much chang'd, he seem'd sad and paler than ordinary; and though he was more decent, and even more magnificent than I had seen him formerly, yet I perceiv'd well something troubled his mind. Methinks (said I to him assoon as I observ'd it) your countenance tells me your felicity of solitude has not lasted you very long. Cloranisbes smil'd to hear me speak thus, but though he told me he was sick, yet I knew that his malady was rather in mind than body. But being I was to stay with him some days, I would not press him too much at first, and we went to walk together upon a Terrace, the prospect of which was very handsome. After which, having some orders to give to a Painter who was embellish∣ing a Banqueting-house at the end of his Garden, he askt me liberty to go thither, and left me to walk whither I would. Wherefore having a purpose to inquire of a man that belong'd to him, with whom he intrusted many things, I went to seek him in the house, from one room to another, and not finding him, I stay'd at last in Cloranisbes closet which I found open. And being naturally curious, I could not see Verses upon the Table without reading them; for knowing Cloranisbes made very good, and perceiving those that lay there were written with his own hand, my curi∣osity was redoubled. So that taking them up, I read them with much pleasure, because they seem'd very amorous. But that which made me consider them more, was, for that I accounted them an infallible proof that Cloranisbes was in love, and that his

sadness only proceeded from thence. At the same in∣stant a conceit coming in my head to play a prank with him, I set my self with all diligence to copy them out, and I was so happy that I had done transcribing them a good while before I found Cloranisbes again. For I went out of his Closet without being seen by any per∣son, and going forth of the house enter'd into an Or∣chard to take a good long turn, feigning to seek for Cloranisbes, who at last met me. All the evening I found him sufficiently sad, though he endeavor'd to seem otherwise: I pretended to be a little weary and sleepy, to the end I might retire in good time. So be∣ing led to my apartment, I was at liberty to execute the design I had. I spent all the evening in translating those Verses into Greek; for I had formerly travell'd into Greece, and so had Cloranisbes. So that that lan∣guage was not unknown to us.

Having pass'd the night in this Translation, I slept so late, that Cloranisbes fearing I was not well, came to my chamber, and ask'd me whether I were sick, slothful, or sleepy. I assure you (said I to him, awaking my self) I cannot tell you which; and besides (added I) you were so pensive last night, that I ima∣gin'd I should do you a pleasure in leaving you to en∣tertain your own thoughts. You are not wont to be so complacent to the loss of your own pleasure (an∣swer'd Cloranisbes) but however rise, and let us walk. I obey'd him, and we went together into a Grove which is extremely agreeable. We had not gone a hundred paces in it, but turning my self toward him, See, Cloranisbes (said I to him) a very fit place to make Verses in, and I doubt not but your leisure has occasion'd you to write excellent things. Solitary people (answer'd he) have so few subjects to write of, that their fancies furnish them with nothing agreea∣ble; for, to tell you the truth, 'tis so common to declaim against Fortune, that I would not chuse it. For my part (reply'd I) Verses that are not of Love, must be admirably good to please me; for since Ver∣ses were no doubt invented for Love and Mirth, they must have something of both, to charm me. But as to the matter of verses (added I) I must shew you an Elegie that was given me, which in my conceit is very passionate, and I have made a Copy of them my self, to give you. In speaking this, I drew forth the Translation which I had of Cloranisbes Elegy into Greek out of his own Language, which naturally is not very fit for Poetry. At first Cloranisbes took it without thinking to find any thing in it that he knew; but he had scarce read four Verses, when looking upon me, Ha! Amilcar (said he to me) see the greatest chance in the world. How? (said I to him very seriously.) The sence of these four Verses (re∣ply'd he) agrees so exactly with four which I made, that nothing was ever seen so like. Such things al∣ways surprise when they happen (answer'd I coldly) but 'tis not very frequent; and I my self (added I confidently) have made Verses which I have found almost word for word in Hesiod, whom I had not read at the time when I made them. So that it could not be said that they remain'd in my memory unwit∣tingly, and that I believ'd I compos'd them though I only remembred them. Therefore 'tis not to be much wonder'd at, that your conceit should jump with that of another; and when conformity is only in the sence and not in the words, the chance is less marvellous. Af∣ter this, Gloranisbes proceeded to read; but the more he read the more he was astonisht; he stopt at each Verse with incredible amazement, and not imagining it possible for me to have seen his Verses, or having seen them, to have had time to translate them, he made exclamations at every word; and having told me a hundred times, This is strange, this is admirable, this is wonderful, this is incredible, and testified his amaze∣ment in all manners he could, he was, in fine, wholly astonisht that I was not so at all. No doubt (added he) 'tis because you believe there are some thoughts in the Verses you show me, which resemble those which I have made. I certainly believe so (answer'd I) and I wonder as much at your astonishment, as you do at the conformity of your Verses with these which I shew you. Ha! Amilcar (cry'd he) you do not understand how the matter is; and to force you to admiration, mark well the Elegy which I am going to repeat to you, and if you do not find that the beginning, continuance, and end are the same, never believe me. After which Cloranisbes repeated his E∣legy, and I taking my turn to seign astonishment, stopt at every Verse, and made cries of admiration, which surpass'd all his before. But in fine (said I to him, after he had done repeating the Elegy) it is im∣possible this should be the effect of meer chance, you must have borrow'd this sence from some other, or some other from you. Cloranisbes then fell to make a thousand Oaths to me, that he had never before seen the Verses which I shew'd him. It must be a long while then (said I to him) since you com∣pos'd yours; you gave Copies of them when you were in Greece, and some one that understands our Language, desir'd to inrich his own with them. That cannot be (answer'd he) for 'tis but three days ago that these Verses were made, and I have not show'd them to any whatsoever. So that this accident must be look'd upon as a prodigy. But do you know (added he) who is the Author of those Verses which so much resemble mine? No (answer'd I confident∣ly) but a Kinsman of Thespis sent them to me by a Ship that came to Utica. But as far as I per∣ceive (added I) you make Love-Verses in your solitude.

But as far as I perceive (said Plotina interrupting him) you intend that we shall not hear Cloranis∣bes Verses, and you have forgot that Valeria un∣derstands the language into which you translated them well enough to hear them with pleasure. I have not forgotten any thing that is lovely in you (answer'd Amilcar) but because I was but the Tran∣slator of those Verses, I durst not shew you them un∣less you had commanded me, though I something desir'd it. But since you have some curiosity for them, you shall have them in your own language; for when I began to understand it, I translated them a second time in this manner. See then what were the sentiments of Cloranisbes.

Elegy to Melantha.

IT was within a pleasing solitude, Where free from cares and from inquietude, My thoughts an undisturb'd sereneness found, And in themselves my easie wishes crown'd A goodly plain, a Meadow flowry fair, With the soft courtship of the perfum'd air, Censing the fields, or bubbling streams that pass O re pebbles; or that thrid the matted grass;

The charming notes of birds that move delight, And the more charming silence of the night, Courts noiseful pleasures taught me to despise, And joys of undesigning shades to prize. There I without ambition, love, or strife, Pass'd the soft minutes of a careless life; Until Melantha's fatal beauty found My desart out; straight from th'unhappy ground Away the disinchanted pleasures flew, And rest for ever bad my Soul adieu. Since then my mind by melancholy seiz'd, And raging pangs of jealousie diseas'd, Like a crack'd Mirrour thousand forms doth shew Of Rivals, whom Melantha never knew. My lightest wish was death, hopeless to move That heart that only could ambition love. And still the more I pay'd profound respect, My slighted service found the more neglect; As if my adoration were a crime, Or dying sighs were murmurs out of time. And yet obdurate as she is, I find No other passion can divert my mind While she not pitying my forlorn estate Can find no easier object for her hate. If it be so, ye Gods, I only crave That last relief despairing Lovers have. May grief destroy me, and Melantha find A Victime fit for her ambitious mind.

If Cloranisbes's Verses (said Valeria) be as passionate as yours, he must certainly have been ve∣ry amorous. For my part (added Plotina) I do not doubt of it; for Amilcar's Verses are ordinarily more sprightly than these, but not so passionate. However (added she, turning towards him) pro∣ceed if you please to the sequel of the History of Clo∣ranisbes; for I extremely long to know whether he told you upon whom he made these so amorous Ver∣ses.

I am so desirous to obey you, Madam (answer'd Amilcar) that I will not stay to answer the illusive commendation you have given the Verses which I make. To return therefore where I was, I shall tell you, that turning my self towards Cloranisbes, But as far as I perceive (said I to him) you make Love-Ver∣ses in your solitude, and make them as well as if you were amorous. Nevertheless I do not much believe that you can be so; for to speak truth, there are not many African Ladies to be found in the Countrey that are fit to take such hearts as that of Cloranisbes. Alas! (answer'd he sighing) I thought indeed to live in safety in my Desart: but, to my unhappiness, I have seen so divine a person here, that I have not been able to resist her charms. Then I press'd Cloranisbes to tell me who that fair one was, where he had seen her, and how he became in Love with her: for as for the name of Melantha which you give her in your Verses (said I to him) I know 'tis but a name of love. Cloranisbes told me that since he was banisht he had seen but two or three of his Friends, and my self, who had visited him twice, excepting the sol••••ary Andronodorus whom he saw very frequently; till one day, walking in a great Waste that leads to the way which goes to Massilia, he beheld a handsome slave, who saluting him respectfully, told him, some Ladies of quality desir'd him to permit them to see his Garden. Where∣fore having not yet forgot to be civil, he answer'd him that he should joyfully receive the honour which they would do his house. But that he might not fail in the respect which it behov'd him to give them, he ask'd the slave their names; and was told that there was the wise of a man of chief quality of Massilia at a house not far distant from his; that this Lady's name was Cyrene; that she had her daughter with her who was nam'd Lysonice, and two of her kinswomen who dwelt with her. The slave added also that, to divert them, Cyrene purposed to let them see all the fair houses thereabouts. Upon which Cloranisbes sending the slave back speedily, prepar'd himself to receive these Ladies in the best manner he could, though it was something troublesome to him at that time to be oblig'd to spend a day in Ceremony; for in the hu∣mour he was in then, he could have lik'd better to see a Painter at work whom he had in his house, or hear a slave sing that belong'd to him and bad an ex∣cellent voice, or entertain himself with a Book, or his own thoughts, than to receive Ladies whom he be∣liev 〈◊〉〈◊〉 should never see more than this time. Ne∣vertheless in consideration of civility, he order'd his servant•• to make preparation to receive them. And then causing a handsome horse to be brought to him, he rid to meet them as far as he could. When he ap∣proacht their Chariot he first beheld Cyrene, who though of good age seem'd to him to have a graceful countenance. But presently after all that were with her lifting up their Vails, he saw the charming Lysonice her daughter, and he saw her so beautiful, that his eyes were dazled, his heart was mov'd, and his rea∣son almost wholly laid aside at that moment, so that he had like to have made his complement to Lysonice without speaking at all to Cyrene or her Friends, who were notwithstanding very amiable. Yet at length he recollected himself from his dumb admiration; and beginning to speak, I would not have believ'd, Madam, (said Cloranisbes to Cyrene) that an unfor∣tunate Exile could have receiv'd so great an honour; and if I could have foreseen it, I would have endea∣vour'd to put my Desart in a condition to divert so fair a company. Since we find you in it, (answer'd Cyrene obligingly) we have nothing more to desire. For my part (added one of her Kinswomen, whose name was Pasilia) when the Master of the house is a person of merit, I do not much care to find that the Garden-plots and walls are not decently kept. I am altogether of your mind (added a sprightly Virgin nam'd Delisia.) And as for me (said the fair Lysonice) I have at present the greatest consolation in the World, in seeing an Exile who is neither savage or incivil; for whereas we our selves are Exiles, it makes me hope that we shall preserve some civility in our Desart, since Cloranisbes has retain'd so much in his. What? Madam (cry'd Cloranisbes looking upon Lysonice) can such a person as you be exil'd? If it be so, it must needs be only because your beauty is too redoubtable to those that banish you. Cloranisbes had no sooner said this, but Lysonice blusht, and he perceiv'd it would have been better to have spoken of the worth of Ladies in general than of Lysonice in particular; but it was not in his power to repress his first senti∣ment. But Cyrene, to interrupt the praises given her daughter, entreated Cloranisbes that he would do them the favour to let them see his house. And so, they went thither wards slowly, continuing their discourse.

Cyrene told Cloranisbes that the King of Massilia had banisht the valiant Bostar her Husband by the ar∣tifices of some enviers he had in this Court, and that

having been sent to a house of his own upon the fron∣tier, he had obey'd, and arriv'd there only fifteen days ago. Cloranisbes heard with pleasure that which Cyrene said to him; and though he knew no reason for it, yet he was glad that Lysonice was an Exile, and that he had some conformity with so fair a person. At length having pass'd a great Waste and two Courts, this fair company alighted before a stately entrance of stone-steps: for though the Architecture of this house is something barbarous, 'tis notwithstanding magni∣ficent. For instead of the Statues of the Graces, Ve∣nus, Diana, or Apollo, as in other places, here were represented huge Lyons, Tygers and Panthers; and in imboss'd imagery, Crocodiles devouring pas∣sengers, frays of savage beasts, and shapes of the most extraordinary monsters that have been seen in Africa. But, in fine, this house is very handsome though built after the ancient mode; so that Cyrene commend∣ed it with as much earnestness as a person could do that desir'd to please the Master of it. I beseech you, Madam (said Cloranisbea to her) do not so extol a thing which does not deserve it; for I am none of those who seek to be commended for what has been made by Architects who are dead many ages ago; and if you have any thing to commend me for, it must be (added he smiling) for not having lov'd Lyons, Tygers and Panthers so much as my Ancestors. In speaking this, he oblig'd Cyrene to enter into a Hall, the paint∣ing of which was newly finisht, where the history of Diana was admirably represented. It not being usual in Massilia to see such rare Pictures, all the Ladies were charm'd with those, and stay'd a good time to behold them, during which they all made it apparent that they were infinitely ingenious, and especially Lysonice. After this Cloranisbes caus'd them to pass into a Chamber hung with Tapestry of Sydon; for having been a great Traveller, he had renounc'd the simplicity of Numidia. Then he led them into a Cabinet open on three sides, the prospect of which was very handsome; it was full of Pictures, Books, and Musical Instruments; and round about it were Cushions wrought with flowers, and a plat of Sea∣bull-rushes cover'd the floor. But as far as I perceive (said Lysonice pleasantly when the company was all fet) you purpose to be eternally banish'd, by so delightful∣ly adorning your Desart. Yet I am not of your hu∣mour; for I shall always so fancie to my self to return to the Court in a few days, that I look upon all the deformities of a disorder'd house as things which com∣fort me, and assure me I shall not stay long there. You are so fit for the World (answer'd Cloranisbes) that 'tis not to be wonder'd if you love it: but you are also so amiable, that you ought never to fear so∣litude in what place soever you be. I know not whe∣ther I can fear solitude (reply'd she) but I am sure I very much fear bad company; and that which makes me dislike continuing in the Countrey, is not so much the fear of seeing no body, as of seeing people that displease me. I believe what you say (answer'd De∣lisia) but I believe too that you love agreeable com∣pany. I grant it (reply'd she) but I had rather not see any whatsoever, than see some whom I dislike. Did you consider well what you say, Daughter (said Cyrene smiling) you would not speak so positively. Indeed (added Pasilia) they who have so ambitious a soul as you, can never think it possible for themselves to conform to solitude; which is a way repugnant to ambition. I beseech you (said Lysonice) do not use tailery upon me before such a person as Cloranisbes, who does not know me so well as to discern how far he ought to believe you. No, no, Madam (answer'd Cloranisbes) do not fear that I think any thing of you which is not to your advantage; for your beauty so powerfully disposes hearts to judge favourably of you, that I find I cannot believe any thing against you. Since 'tis so (said Lysonice, perceiving her Mother was talking to Pasilia at a window) I defie you to speak all that you please. Then I shall tell Cloranisbes (said Delisia to whom she spoke) what a dispute we had by the way as we came hither; and I believe, as prepossess'd as he is with your beauty, he will not ac∣knowledge that your sentiment is more just than mine. We shall see that (answer'd Lysonice coldly.) I be∣seech you (said Cloranisbes then to Delisia) do not force me to be against you. Provided you will swear to me (answer'd she) that you will judge sincerely and and without partiality, I desire no more of you; and without so much as expecting your oath, you shall know that, after much discourse too long to relate, Lysonice gave us to understand that she should like better to marry a King whom she hated, and who should always hate her, than a man whom she lov'd, and who always should love her, if he were of a mean fortune. The meanness of mine (reply'd Cloranisbes) no doubt ought to make me declare against Lysonice, but since I judge nothing according to my own inte∣rests, I cannot resolve to condemn her without first hearing her.

For my part (said Lysonice) since inclination is a thing which arises in us without the help of our rea∣son, I might, if I would, dispense with speaking any thing upon this matter; but however, I will acknow∣ledge ingenuously, that ambition seems to me the most noble passion of all. I know not, whether it be the most noble (answer'd Cloranisbes) but I know well it is not the most sweet. Be it what it will (said she) I apprehend a thousand pleasures in seeing ones self above all those that surround us, and I fancy tedious discontentment in a mean fortune. As for me (said Delisia) I should account my self more happy with a plain shepherd whom I lov'd, than with a King whom I hated. If I hated his person (answer'd Lysonice) I should love the degree he advanc'd me to, and his greatness. But if I lov'd a shepherd (reply'd De∣lisia) I should be contented with his fortune, I should love him even to his Corrage, and I should be more happy in seeing him seed his Flocks by a River side, than you would be upon the Throne, if you shar'd it with a Prince whom you hated. Believe me (an∣swer'd Lysonice); Love is a fine thing in Verses and in Pictures; but considering it a little prudently, I think all the blessings of it are very imaginary. If you examine ambition a right (reply'd Delisia) you will see that all the favours of Fortune do not affect the Soul sensibly. 'Tis true (said Cloranisbes) the desires of Love proceed directly from the heart, but those of ambition only from the mind. I do not un∣derstand these distinctions very well (answer'd Lyso∣nice) but I know, the thought of being a Queen flatters my heart pleasingly; and that of being lov'd makes no great impression in my mind. 'Tis because you do not conceive (reply'd Cloranisbes) there can be any thing in the world worthy of being lov'd by you; and because 'tis more easie for you to imagine that there should be a King so just as to make you a Queen, and give you a Crown which Fortune has not given you. You draw your self very civilly out of this matter (said Lysonice) but nevertheless, I

know you judge me too ambitious, and therefore I will not give you leisure to explain your self more clearly, for fear Delisia triumph to my disadvantage; moreover, 'tis fit to mind my Mother, that we have not too much time to see the Gardens of so fair a house, and to return home. And so rising up, she oblig'd Cyrene to go walk, and this lovely company went to see the Gardens, the Orchards, and a Grove which was behind them; but they were much surpris'd to find a very noble and handsome Collation in a Ban∣quetting-house which stood in the middle of the Grove. With which while these Ladies were enter∣tain'd, they were delighted with the noise of a little consort of Countrey-Musick, very agreeably. And after it was ended, the Musician which belong'd to Cloranisbes, sung admirably well; by which time it was grown late, and so the Ladies went away ex∣tremely satisfied with the civility, wit, and magnifi∣cence of Cloranisbes, who with several of his Atten∣dants conducted them half their way. When he left, Cyrene desir'd him to go and visit them, and he told her, that having intended to request her permission to do it, he should not fail to obey her: after which they parted. Cloranisbes, as he return'd home, was sufficiently pensive, though he did not imagine that he was fallen in Love. Yet the idea of Lysonice accom∣panied him in all places; which, being it was agree∣able, he did not care to extinguish out of his memory, but on the contrary entertain'd it with pleasure. The next day going to see a Painter work, whom he had at his house, he found him more merry than or∣dinary; of which desiring to know the cause, Whence comes it (said he to him) that I see you so joyful? My Lord (answer'd he) I have been a whole moneth seeking in my fancy for an air of a head to make a Venus, and could not hit upon one; but I found one yesterday without trouble; for whilst the Ladies were at the Collation in the Banquering house of the Grove, I stole the Picture of her they nam'd Lyso∣nice.) How? (said Cloranisbes surpris'd) could you make any thing that resembles her? Yes, my Lord (answer'd he) and upon the plain design which I made yesterday, I am confident to make an excellent Pi∣cture for resemblance. I pray do not execute your intention (said Cloranisbes smiling) for it would di∣sturb my quiet, if I saw Lysonice's Picture often. Ne∣vertheless, Cloranisbes askt him to shew him the drought which he had made, and found it very much resembling. He also desir'd to keep it; but the Painter who had a Venus to make, was so importunate with him, that he was constrain'd to let him have it to make use of for his intended Piece.

The next day Cloranisbes went to see Andronodorus, and told him of the Adventure he had had; for after he had cur'd him of his ambition, he gave him an account of whatever hapned to him. But he had no sooner done relating to him the visit he had receiv'd, but the wise Hermit taking his turn to speak, Ha! Cloranis∣bes (said he to him) have a care of your self; for love is not much better than ambition, and if I am not mistaken, your heart has more propensity to submit to the Tyranny of the one than of the other, I confess it wise Andronodorus (answer'd Cloranisbes) in this case methinks 'tis so easie for my Reason to de∣fend my heart, that I ought nor to fear being sur∣pris'd. For Lysonice and I have so different interests, that I think it is not easie for Love and Fortune joyn'd together to unite us; and besides, I have already observ'd Lysonice has a very ambitious Soul, and so it would be in vain for an Exile to offer to become her Servant. Yet, I say once more have a care of your self (reply'd Andronodorus) for if there be no other obstacles than those you mention, to keep you from being in love, you are so already; for 'tis certain, difficulty produces a greater progress towards love than facility. Beware then to fortifie your Reason well, if you mind not to lose the contentment you have obtain'd. But do you think (said Cloranisbes) there is no Love commendable? I think there may be (answer'd this wise old man) and I grant there is no∣thing more excellent than a lawful, tender, and con∣stant Love: but Cloranisbes, where will you find two persons that Love one another, who have minds so generous, hearts so tender, and Souls so constant, as to love one another ardently and for ever? And yet without all these conditions, Love is but a weak∣ness, a crime and a folly. So that, considering the al∣most impossibility to find a woman which deserves to be lov'd, or knows how to love, 'tis best for a man to preserve his liberty. Love founded upon beauty can never out-live it, and many times dies before it: Love which is establisht out of vanity, is but vanity it self, and cannot last: that which proceeds from the interests of Fortune, is nothing but covetousness; that which is inspir'd only by youth, passes away with it, and is nothing but levity and inconstancy: that which arises from the temper or constitution, is blind, gross, and brutish: and there is none durable or com∣mendable, but that which is produc'd by vertue. Defend your self then conragiously against Love, if you believe me, and suffer not your self to be surpris'd by so dangerous an Enemy. Do not flatter your self with the thought that there may be calm Loves: for,

As spring without West-winds has never been, So Love without desires was never seen.

Therefore enjoy the quiet in which you are, Cloranis∣bes, and remember that flight is the only course that can secure you.

The discourse of Andronodorus very much mov'd Cloranisbes; and yet he could not resolve to forbear giving a visit to Cyrene and Lysonice, but he really purposed to go thither but once. At his return home, he found his Painter had finisht the head of his Venus, and that this Picture so much resembled Lysonice that it was the same. His heart was mov'd with it, and he could not behold it without pleasure and distur∣bance; nevertheless, at the same time he laught at himself for his weakness, and so went to his rest. But the next morning he could not keep himself from go∣ing again to Lysonice's Picture, and the day following he went to the house of the valiant Bostar, father of this fair person, who receiv'd him with extraordina∣ry caresses, and led him to the apartment of Cyrene, where Lysonice, Pasilia, and Delisia were. Whereas he had receiv'd these Ladies with much civility before, they receiv'd him so now; and this obliging recepti∣on adding something to the charms of Lysonice, prov'd a further ingagement of the heart of Cloranisbes. At first Bostar began to discourse about their common misfortunes, by which they were both exil'd; com∣plaining that Princes ordinarily think themselves dis∣pens'd with from ingratitude, and that they owe no∣thing to those which serve them; then, lamenting their unhappiness, in that they can scarce ever distin∣guish flatterers from their true friends, nor know the clear truth; and which is worst, care not to know it,

being willing to be deceiv'd but not recompense such as are faithful to them; and finally, in that they do more good to those that hurt them, than to those that have done them service. But after this Bostar being retir'd upon occasion of some business, the conver∣sation was chang'd, and became pleasant, mirthful, and divertising, that Cloranisbes, to his unhappiness, judg'd this converse more delightful than with the solitary Andronodorus. He offer'd to return home at night, but Bostar and Cyrene detain'd him till the next day: whereby having had more time to know Lysonice's wit, he was so taken with it, that he per∣ceiv'd it would be very troublesome to him to resist her. All her discourse was agreeable, and though she had a little vehemence in her mind, yet her eyes shew'd so much sweetness, and that vehemence was so sprightly, that she made it part of her graceful∣ness.

Thus Cloranisbes who went thither free, return'd home without almost the least doubting of his Capti∣vity. Yet he stay'd six days before he went again to the house of Bostar, during which the poor Androno∣dorus dy'd. This loss afflicted him, and perhaps would have hindred him from returning so soon to Cyrene's house, if all those fair exile, had not sent a complement to oblige him to visit them. His sadness being discernable in his countenance, they askt him the cause of it; which having told them, Lysonice spoke with astonishment concerning such as confine themselves to eternal solitude, not being able to com∣prehend how 'tis possible for any one to renounce so∣ciety for ever. But she spoke so ingeniously, that though her discourse was repugnant to the senti∣ments Cloranisbes had at that time, he was an exceeding admirer of her. But not to insist upon such small matters, having greater to tell you, The more Cloranisbes beheld Lysonice, the more charming he found her, and became the more amorous.

Shortly after Bostar took his turn to visit him, and so did all the Ladies, who were extremely amaz'd to see the Picture of Lysonice at his house. This beautiful Virgin immediately blusht at the sight of it, and askt Cloranisbes where he took it. When you have told me (answer'd he softly) fair Lysonice where you have put the heart you have taken from me, I shall tell you how I came by your Picture. Believe me Cloranis∣bes (reply'd she) if you had my Picture no more than I have your heart, you would not have it at all. You mean, Madam (answer'd he) that you would not have it be yours. In good earnest (said she to him) I conceive women in banishment do not much mind taking of hearts; and men in the same condition have enough to do to support their adversity, with∣out suffering them to be taken imprudently. Ah! too charming Lysonice (answer'd Cloranisbes) 'tis always pertinent to love you. This little conversati∣on was at this time interrupted; for Cyrene, Delisia, and Pasilia, who had stay'd to consider the Picture, came and joyn'd with them; but, in fine, though what Cloranisbes said to Lysonice might have been taken only in the way of gallantry, yet he was glad he had spoken. As for Lysonice, she made no reflection upon it at that time. I do not tell you that Cloranis∣bes gave this fair company all the divertisement, that could be had in the Countrey: but I assure you he became desperately amorous of Lysonice; and having the counsels of Andronodorus no longer, the re∣membrance of those he had formerly given him was too weak to withstand the charms of this admirable Lady, whom then he saw very frequently. More∣over he sought an opportunity to speak to her of his growing passion, and found it; but she receiv'd him so fiercely, that he was more miserable after he had discover'd his love to her than before. Believe me, Cloranisbes (said she to him one day when he con∣jur'd her to suffer him to love her) Love is not suta∣ble for the unhappy, nor does it belong to the unfor∣tunate to love one another; it would be too much to have complaints to make both of Fortune and Love at the same time. Ha! Madam (said Cloranisbes to her) I am perswaded you cannot but have a great aversion for me; for if it were not so, you would on the contrary find there would be some sweetness to your self in raigning absolutely in my heart, and that love is a consolation of all sorts of infelicities. No, no, Cloranisbes (said she to him) do not imagine I have any aversion for you, for I assure you I know very well all the excellent qualities you are indu'd with; but you are an Exile, and so am I; I love the World; I am ambitious, and I hate solitude: judge then; whether, as things now stand, 'tis possible for you to render me happy. But, Madam (answer'd he) For∣tune may change, and 'tis easie for me not to be per∣petually in banishment. Not but that I could easily dispense with the World if I enjoy'd you (added he) but since you love it, I will love it too for your sake, I will hate Solitude, and Love shall anew inspire me with ambition.

Thus (amiable Plotina) stood the case of Cloranisbes with Lysonice, when I was at his house, when I found those Love-verses, and when I play'd the prank of translating them, to perplex him. After this afflicted Lover had related to me all that I have rehears'd to you, he complain'd of his unhappiness in a most passi∣onate manner. For, my dear Amilcar (said he to me) no man alive can love more ardently than I do, none can have less hope than I have; and finally, none can resent greater torment. I know Lysonice has seve∣ral Lovers at the Court of Massilia, who bestir them∣selves to their power to make Bostar's peace: so that if he be recall'd, I shall lose Lysonice for ever, and live in my Desart tormented with love, jealousie and despair. Bostar, without doubt, does not hate me (added he) Cyrene loves me very tenderly; and Pa∣silia and Delisia are for me; but Lysonice, with all her esteem, is sensible to nothing but ambition. But however (said I) is not her heart sensible of joy? Yes (answer'd he) and I know not whether it be partly because she loves pleasures and is very ambitious. If you credit me (reply'd I) instead of complaining con∣tinually as you do, study to divert her, carry me to Bostar's house, to whom I will give hope of your re∣turn to Utica, and suffer me a little to observe your Mistress. But if you should go and become my Rival (answer'd Cloranisbes) I should be much more unhap∣py. If I should (reply'd I smiling) it would be pro∣bably for so short a time, that I should not have leisure to prejudice you. For besides that 'tis seldom I have any long Loves, I am to stay here but eight days; so that my absence would cure me of my pas∣sion.

At that time, charming Plotina, you had not yet taught me to love constantly. But, in fine, Cloranis∣bes promis'd to carry me the day following to Bostar's house. Where accordingly, I found that Cyrene was a handsome woman, to whom one might still offer an idle heart, without being lyable to blame; I found Pasilia very amiable, Delisia infinitely agreeable,

and Lysonice so fair and so charming, that if my Friend had not lov'd her, I should have infallibly become her servant. But because I would not augment his miseries, I hastned as much as possibly I could to make choice be∣tween Pasilia and Delisia. And having well consider'd them both, I fix'd my self upon Delisia. Whereas I came from the Court, Lysonice receiv'd me with joy; and when I said I believ'd Cloranisbes was likely to be recall'd speedily, she treated him a little better that day than ordinary. Moreover, I describ'd the Court of Utica to her so gallant, and the vicinity of Carthage so commodious and pleasant, that me thought, if Cloranisbes were recall'd, she would easily resolve to marry him. In the Interim, it being my happiness to please all this fair company, Bostar propos'd to us to stay at his house, during the eight days allotted me to abide with Cloranisbes. Where∣fore, conceiving it would be advantageous to my Friend if we accepted his offer, I carri'd the matter so handsomly, that they seem'd almost to force us to stay there. In this time I lov'd Delisia, I did not hate Pasilia, I was very complacential to Cyrene, and I also lov'd a young Phoenician Virgin who came to Bostar's house, and whose name was Phelinice. She is indeed a very lovely Lady, of an indifferent stature, but extreme well shap'd; she has a round visage, a little dimple in her chin, a lively complexion, a somewhat high forehead, a handsome mouth, a very pleasing smile, black and sparkling eyes, purely white hands, and hair of the fairest bright chesnut, that ever was seen; which is very rare in that Countrey. But though Phelinice be always very agreeable, yet she is infinitely more upon one of these days in which she has a certain sweet and a little caressing complacency, which becomes her admirably. She is naturally good, discreet, and generous; she is both debonair and melancholy; she is very ingenious, and is capable of more things than many others who make greater ostentation than she. Pleasure is sufficiently sutable to her inclination, though she can dispense with it when 'tis fitting to do so; as for her friends, she loves them well, but yet a little less than she thinks, because she does not believe her self so well belov'd by them as she really is; and having taken up a conceit, that true friendship may be without an absolute confiding inti∣macy, it is hard for her to escape the upbraidings of her Friends. Yet this does not hinder her from being very amiable and very worthy to be lov'd; and there∣fore I lov'd her at least as much as Delisia and Pasilia. But being she was but one day with us, I was quit of her for four and twenty hours love.

The eight days we stay'd there, were spent very de∣lightfully; for having no other design but to divert ourselves, we satisfied our desires, notwithstanding all the ambition of Lysonice. We went a hunting and a fishing, we walkt, we made jovial Sonnets, and ex∣temporary Verses; we sometimes talk'd seriously, and many times otherwise, and, in brief, we had very di∣vertising conversations. That which often render'd them agreeable, was, for that there liv'd rustical people in the places adjacent, whose countrey modes made Ly∣sonice desperate, and gave her occasion to declare against the Countrey very agrecably. But for∣asmuch as I know well enough how to counterfeit all sorts of people, I diverted her sufficiently in conversing with these people, as if I had been one of them. For I could imitate their looks, speak their language, and transform my self absolutely into a noble Bumkin. And by this folly I drew pleasure from a thing which otherwise would have been very disgustful to her.

In the mean time Cloranisbes imploy'd all his endea∣vours to win the heart of Lysonice; he knew well that she esteem'd him, and nothing was so prejudicial to him as his quality of being an Exile: but this diffi∣culty was in a manner insuperable, and made him extremely unhappy. And the more, because he durst not hope to make his peace with the Prince of Car∣thage; for I had given him to understand that it was the Princess who was his chief enemy. However, he dissembled his sentiments, and omitted nothing where∣by he might please Lysonice. But at length the eight days being ended, I departed, and I dare say, Cloranis∣bes and I left behind us some regret for our absence. For my part, I was melancholy till I return'd to Utica, but especially at my leaving of Cloranisbes amidst the inquietudes of his violent affection. I promis'd him at parting, to do him all the service lay in my power, and indeed I did not fail of my word. And I had a better opportunity to do it than at any time before, because the Princess of Carthage, who alone had pro∣cur'd Cloranisbes disgrace, was now out of favour with the Prince her self, and constrain'd to retire into the Countrey. I forgot to tell you, that when I took leave of Cloranisbes, I promis'd him not to discover his passion to any, nor so such as to say I had seen Ly∣sonice; and that in my return, the Painter who had workt for him in his Desart, follow'd me and came to Utica. For that Cloranisbes had desir'd me to assist him as much as I could, I did not fail to do so; and he soon got imployment.

Now the Prince of Carthage having some secret de∣sign to make War, and knowing that Bostar was ba∣nisht from the Court of the King his Master, that he liv'd not far from Cloranisbes, and had a very strong place which belong'd to him, he purposed to gain him to his interest, to the end to make him declare for them; wherefore having happily dispos'd him to re∣call Cloranisbes, I acted so dextrously that he gave me Commission to send to my Friend that he might re∣turn. This news made Cloranisbes both joyful and sorrowful; for knowing his exile was an obstacle to him to be lov'd by Lysonice, he was glad for being re∣call'd to Court; but then he was on the other side ex∣tremely afflicted, for that he could not cease to be an exile without being absent from his Mistress. Never∣theless whereas this absence might possibly prove to the advantage of his Love, he resolv'd upon it, and went to take his leave of Bostar, Cyrene, Lysonice, and the Ladies his Friends. He promis'd them to return to see them, and desir'd their permission to write to them. Lysonice was more pleasing towards him this day, than she had been ever before, and having an op∣portunity to entertain her apart for a quarter of an hour, Suffer me, Madam (said he to her) to complain of the joy which the end of my banishment gives you. You ought rather to thank me for it (said she to him) for 'tis a sign that I sensibly interest my self in your hap∣piness. But, Madam (reply'd he) is it possible for one that has given you his heart to be happy when he is absent from you? I know not whether or no you will be happy at Utica (answer'd she) but I know well you would have been always unhappy here. But, Cloranis∣bes (added this fair Virgin) I will not have you go a∣way ill satisfied of me; know then, that I am perswa∣ded, when one loves another ardently, he ought al∣ways to study more to content him, than his own plea∣sure; and so, when a Lover studies only to enjoy his

Mistress, without considering whether he can render her fortune happy, he loves but imperfectly. There∣fore conceiving that adversity and love cannot subsist together, I have been unwilling to encourage the af∣fection you pretend towards me, for fear of increa∣sing your unhappiness. But, in fine, I esteem you in∣finitely, and if I were capable of love, I doubt not but I should affect you rather than any other. This, Cloranisbes, is all that can be said by an Exile to a man who is not yet wholly discharg'd of his banish∣ment (if I may so speak) an exile, I say, who ac∣counts nothing more unjust than not always to imploy the greatest endeavours for advancing the greatness and honour of the person lov'd.

Although this which Lysonice said to Cloranisbes was not too obliging, nevertheless perceiving that she was willing to give him a little hope, he was ra∣visht with it, and us'd the most passionate and exqui∣site blandishments to her that the most ardent love can inspire an Inamorate with; after which, he came back to Utica. I had a purpose to have gone to meet him, and give him notice that his Painter, who had kept a copy of Lysonice's picture, had shew'd it to the Prince; who was so charm'd with Lysonice's beauty, that he kept the Picture and plac't it in his Chamber: but the Prince having taken me to hunt∣ing with him, Cloranisbes arriv'd at Utica a quarter of an hour before we return'd hither. And going to wait upon the Prince at the Palace, he was extremely surpris'd to see Lysonice's picture in her Chamber. This thought so wholly took up his mind, that though the Prince's arrival caus'd a sufficient noise in the Court of the Palace, he scarce heard it at all. Yet at length he went to meet him in the Court, and being the Prince lov'd him very well, and believ'd he stood in need of him, he caress'd and embrac'd him with ten∣derness. Let us forget what is pass'd, Cloranisbes (said he to him) and make amends for it with the fu∣ture; so that you may be never separated from my interests. Cloranisbes very respectfully answer'd to that which the Prince said to him; who after that, fell to speak of the hunting and several indifferent matters. But some time after he was in his Chamber, he caus'd Cloranisbes to enter into his Closet, where when he had discours'd very obligingly to him, and Clora∣nisbes fully justifi'd himself, he told him that to testi∣fie to him that he believ'd him innocent, he would presently put confidence in him, and impart to him his desires to bring Bostar to his interests. I know he is mal-content with the King of Massilia (said he to him) that he is couragious, his reputation amongst these Nations, and is master of a strong place; there∣fore you must endeavour to gain him to me, and ob∣lige him to declare himself for me when I shall desire it. My Lord (answer'd Cloranisbes, who was glad of this imployment) I am sufficiently capable to bring to pass that which you desire; For Bostar has some esteem for me. Then you must return secretly to him (added the Prince) but seeing it concerns me that this negotiation be neither tedious nor unsuccessful, I am to ask you, whether Bostar's Daughter, whose Picture you have seen in my Chamber, be as handsome as it; for, if she be, you must tell Bostar I am ready to marry her, on condition he will do what I desire. You know (added he) I have always set up my resolution never to marry a woman but who is admirably fair; therefore it behoves you to answer me punctually, and tell me whether Lysonice be like her picture: for I say again, if she be as handsome, I shall be glad that she be the means to unite Bostar and me; seeing I never beheld any thing so handsome as this Picture, and I am in love with it.

Cloranisbes was then extremely perplex'd; the love he had for Lysonice combated with his generosity, which urg'd him to tell a truth which might content the ambition of that fair person; but he had so little time to deliberate upon a thing most difficult to re∣solve upon, that Love being unable to consent that he should yield up his Mistress, and not daring to tell the Prince he was amorous of Lysonice, especially not being much lov'd by her, he told him, 'twas true, Ly∣sonice was a great beauty, but in his own eye she came much short of her Picture. Perhaps (said the Prince to him) you have not well consider'd her; for banisht persons have usually so many other things to take up their minds, that their eyes may commit injusti∣ces. But however (added the Prince) it is requisite that you go to Bostar, and treat with him, and con∣sider Lysonice well: and then in case she be as hand∣some as her Picture, you may confidently assure Bostar that I will marry her. If she be not, offer him a greater fortune in my Dominions than he has in that of the King his Master; and do not come back till this treaty be accomplisht. Cloranisbes being unable to contradict the Prince, accepted the imployment, which he gave him, and prepar'd himself to depart the next day. But when he came to spend the evening with me, I saw him so afflicted that I pityed him. I knew not what to think at first; for though the Prince accoun∣ted Lysonice's Picture very handsome, yet I was igno∣rant of his secret intention; so that I could do no∣thing but conjecture. I assure you (said I to Clora∣nisbes) I never told the Prince that I had seen Lysoni∣ce, nor that you were in love with her, but it was your Painter's doing, who being ambitious to shew what he could do, caus'd her Picture to be seen by the Prince. Alas! my dear Amilcar (said he to me) I am unfortunate. After which exclamation he related to me what had befallen him. But (said I to him) you do not account that you need be so perplex'd; For if I were in your place, I would tell the Prince I was amo∣rous of Lysonice; it not being credible that he is so much in love with her Picture as to contend for her with you. But you do not consider what you say (an∣swer'd he) for the Prince has not only had always a fansie to marry the handsomest woman in the World, if he could, but he aims in this Marriage to bring Bostar over to his interests; so that should I tell him of my love to Lysonice, he would look upon me as an obstacle to his design; and being I am not yet too well establisht in his mind, I should ruine my self therein for ever; I should cause him to banish me a second time, and eternally deprive my self of the hope of pretending to Lysonice. But what then intend you to do? (said I.) Alas! my dear Amilcar (answer'd he) I know not; for, to examine things aright, I be∣tray Lysonice as well as the Prince, by saying she is less handsome than her Picture, since nothing is more true than that her Picture is a thousand times less handlome than her self; and which is worst (added he) I am a wretch who love only my own felicity, who have no regard to Lysonice's advancement, who offer to keep her from that which of all things in the World most sutes with her inclination, and who, having no as∣surance of being happy, go about to hinder her from being so, as without doubt she would be, if she became wife to the Prince of Carthage. For all this, I cannot overcome my passion, my generosity must yield

to it, Lysonice must be injur'd because I love her, and because I cannot deprive my self of her; and though I am to betray both the Prince, Bostar and Lysonice, yet 'tis absolutely necessary that I lose not hope, and beware of being the instrument to put her into the arms of another, whose affection being only ground∣ed on her beauty, would in a short time diminish. So that, when I consider well, 'tis for Lysonice's own sake that I must hinder her from becoming Princess of Carthage; or, at least I will perswade my self so. Cloranisbes spoke this so pathetically, that he caus'd me to pity him. But again, (said I to him) What in∣tend you to do? I intend (answer'd he) to employ all my power to invite Bostar into the interests of the Prince, without mentioning the Marriage of Lysonice; and if my negotiation prove happy, at my return I will give the Prince an account of it, and at last tell him that Lysonice is less handsome than her Picture. And being he does not know her, that fancie of his will vanish. But withal, to hinder Lysonice from con∣vincing me of untruth, and appearing so soon at the Court, I will handsomly perswade Bostar to leave Cyrene and Lysonice in that important place which he holds, whither he would not go at first, for fear of rendring himself more suspected to the King of Massi∣lia. But when all that you speak is done (said I to him) Lysonice will not be yours. No (answer'd he) but she will not be anothers, and 'tis possible in pro∣cess of time she may be mine.

I spoke many things more to Cloranisbes, to which he answer'd as one prepossess'd by his passion. Ne∣vertheless, he could take no very firm resolution, and the incertainty which distracted him made his greatest torment. So he went away unresolv'd, and continu'd his journey in the same manner; and when he was arriv'd near Bostar's house, he was almost in the mind that his great affection might induce him to give over pretending to Lysonice, and to tell her ingenu∣ously the truth. But when at his arrival he beheld her upon the Stone-stair entrance, going to walk with Pa∣silia and Delisia, this sight destroy'd all his designs, and caus'd him to take an immoveable resolution to do all he could to marry Lysonice. He had no sooner re∣solv'd thus, but he lookt upon matters in another manner, he believ'd there was no unfaithfulness in do∣ing what he did, that he having lov'd Lysonice a long time, and the Prince loving but her Picture, he might innocently practise a deceit, and that provided he could engage Bostar in the interests of his Master, he was not Criminal in not mentioning his marriage with Lysonice. In effect, without amusing my self too long in telling you after what manner he acted, I shall on∣ly tell you, that he manag'd Bostars mind so well, that he brought him to that which he desir'd, which was so much the more easily done, because he was ad∣vertis'd the King of Massilia had resolv'd to destroy him: so Cloranisbes almost intirely concluded the treaty with Bostar.

All this while Lysonice no longer considering Clo∣ranisbes as an Exile, but on the contrary as a man that might free her self from being such, treated him bet∣ter than ordinary, suffer'd him to speak to her of his passion, and did not forbid him even to hope. This confirming Cloranisbes in the resolution he had taken, he remain'd firm in it, and was more amorous than he had been; without doubt nothing serves more to augment love than hope.

At his return he was receiv'd very well by the Prince, especially when he inform'd him that his ne∣gotiation was successful. Yet he was sufficiently dis∣contented when Cloranisbes assur'd him too, that Ly∣sonice was not so fair in his eyes as her Picture. Not but that she is handsome, my Lord (said he to him) but either I understand not your inclination, or I am per∣swaded her beauty would not affect you. For my part (added the Prince in a great indignation) I cannot sufficiently blame the weakness of women in general, who will always have their Pictures made handsomer than themselves, and will be more oblig'd to the Painter than Nature, without considering that it would be more pleasing for them to hear it said, that they are more handsome than their Pictures, than to perceive in the eyes of such as behold their Portraitures, that they judge they have been flatter'd. Believe me (said I to the Prince; for I was present at this conversati∣on) all the world desires to be flatter'd; people will have flattering Pictures, they admit of adulation with delight, they will be flatter'd even in their houses, and trifles; and I know a woman that has a little Dog who would take it very ill if she were not flatter'd in conceit of him; and whoso would be her friend, must confidently affirm that 'tis the handsomest Dog in the world. Judge then, my Lord (added I) if those women are not to be pardon'd who desire to have the appellation of plump, fair, and rosie given them, to have arch'd eyes, little mouths, and fair hands, and handsome arms attributed to them, though they have none of all these. They must therefore be pardon'd a weakness which they cannot be hindred from (answer'd Cloranisbes.) For my part (reply'd Cloranisbes) I cannot pardon the Painter who has made the Picture of Lysonice handsomer than she is; for I should have extremely lov'd a woman as fair as that. But, in fine, since 'tis so, I must be satisfi'd, and to put it out of my mind (added he) I will have that deceitful Picture taken away. And accordingly he gave it to Cloranisbes, who receiv'd it joyfully. However (added he) 'tis sufficient that your nego∣tiation succeeds well.

The next day the Prince sent Cloranisbes back again to Bostar; the Treaty was sign'd, and Bostar, not caring any longer for being suspected by the King of Massilia, went forthwith to that important place which belong'd to him with Cyrene, Lysonice, and the two Ladies his Kinswomen. The Prince of Carthage sent some men to him to strengthen his Garrison: at length the business became so much rumor'd, that it could not be doubted of. In the interim, Cloranisbes increasing in favour, the favours of Lysonice were also augmented towards him; and according as he was consider'd by his Master, he was likewise by his Mistress, who at this time gave him all grounds to be∣lieve that she would obey without resistance, if Bostar commanded her to marry him. Cyrene greatly wisht this Marriage; and Bostar himself desir'd it, both out of affection to Cloranisbes, and to content Lysonice, who he knew did not dislike it, and more also out of Policy. But sometimes he wonder'd much, that Clo∣ranisbes, who he knew was passionately amorous of Lysonice, did not speak to him about it.

After divers matters which 'tis not necessary to tell you, because they relate only to the interests of the King of Massilia and the Prince of Carthage, Bostar came to Utica to confer with the Prince of Carthage, who was then a great Lover of a Lady of Quality in his Court; but he did not bring Cyrene nor Lysonice thither, who remain'd in the strong place I told you of. Cloranisbes love being now very violent, and obser∣ving

the Prince ingaged in an affection which agreea∣bly employ'd him, he thought he might begin in good earnest to think of being happy. Wherefore he speaks in private to Bostar about his love to Lysonice, askt him, if he might hope to be happy, and conjures him to open his heart to him, as himself is resolv'd to open his own to him. Bostar approves his design, and tells him that he promises him his daughter: after which Cloranisbes gave him a thousand thanks. But, my Lord (said he to him) if you please to have me happy, it lies in your power to render me absolutely so; for I know the Prince of Carthage is of so nice and suspicious an humor, that if I should appear very amorous of Lysonice, I should be always suspected by him. If I should but express my self desirous to mar∣ry, he would less esteem me for it, and think me less addicted to his interests: therefore to accomplish my happiness, and keep him from believing me more de∣voted to you than to himself, it is requisite to act in such manner, that he may think I marry Lysonice only because he commands me to do it; and in fine, 'tis your part to bring him to command it. Though it be not the custom (answer'd Bostar) for a father to speak first of marrying his daughter, yet I have so earnest a desire to give you mine, that I will dispense with the ordinary decorum for your sake. And according∣ly Bostar manag'd this affair with the Prince in such sort, that he oblig'd him to think fit of his own ac∣cord for him to marry Lysonice into his Court, to the end that important place which belong'd to him, might not after his death be possess'd by any person that de∣pended on the King of Massilia. 'Tis for that reason, my Lord (said Bostar to the Prince) that I presume to desire a husband of you for Lysonice. The Prince judg∣ing this proposition of Bostar might be to his advan∣tage, receiv'd it well, and set himself to think who would be a fit person in his Court to marry Lysonice. At first he cast his eyes towards me; but a moment af∣ter remembring how great an enemy I was to marri∣age, he diverted his thoughts to several others, but he found some obstacles in all: at length he thought of Cloranisbes, and nevertheless he durst not name him to Bostar, because remembring in what manner he had heard him speak of Lysonice, he fear'd he might have some aversion against her. Whereof being desirous to be satisfied, he only told Bostar that he would think upon it. Assoon as night was come, the Prince speak∣ing in private to Cloranisbes, propounded the busi∣ness to him with all the REasons which political inter∣est suggested to him, to perswade him to marry Ly∣sonice. Not that I will compel you to it (said he) if you have any aversion for her; but if she be in∣different to you, undoubtedly you can do nothing more advantageous for your self, nor important for me; for you are not ignorant of what importance the place is which belongs to Bostar, and which will be yours after his death. Cloranisbes heard this which the Prince said to him, with a joy so great, that he had some difficulty to dissemble it. Yet he was so much Master of himself, that he receiv'd this Proposal like a man averse to marry, and who would not resolve upon it, but only because it was the Prince's plea∣sure; who therefore thank'd him for the consent he gave to it.

Now the Prince being us'd to proceed hastily in all things which he undertakes, the next morning he told Bostar he had found a husband for Lysonice, and then nam'd Cloranisbes to him, who was accepted as you may imagine. Wherefore being impatient till the busi∣ness were accomplish'd, it was resolv'd Cloranisbes should return with Bostar to marry Lysonice. At first the Prince would have had Lysonice have come to U∣tica; but Cloranisbes representing to him that there was danger in leaving the place so long without the presence of Bostar, Cyrene, and Lysonice, he at length determin'd that it was best for Cloranisbes to go a long with Bostar thither; and the Prince told me, that to ren∣der the feast more delightful, he would permit me to go to the Nuptials. You may judge how joyful Clora∣nisbes was; for in the transports of his contentment, he foresaw nothing but delight and happiness for all the remainder of his life. Lysonice had treated him well the last time he saw her; her ambition had where∣with to be contented, as well as her love; Bostar and Cyrene lov'd him; and the Prince being amorous of another at this time, he did not think there was any thing to be fear'd. So then he studied only how to give Lysonice every thing which he imagin'd might please her. Knowing she affected magnificence, there was no piece of State in Carthage that might be fit her, but he gave it her; and procur'd her such a handsome retinue, that nothing could be desir'd more. But, in fine, we departed with Bostar, and went to find Cyrene and Lysonice, who having been advertis'd of the state of matters, receiv'd us admirably well. Lysonice, having heard the Prince of Carthage's Court many times spoken of as a very gallant Court, was extreme∣ly joyful to think that she should be in a very consi∣derable rank there; seeing she should marry a man whom the Prince lov'd very well, and whose merit made him worthy of the love of all the world. Clo∣ranisbes observing her so well satisfi'd, was the hap∣piest man in the world; as without doubt there is nothing more sweet in love, than to cause the felicity of a person whom we love. And indeed I never saw a person have a more real joy than that which Clora∣nisbes had; for though there was some deceit in his proceeding, yet Love render'd it excusable, and his passion was too ardent then to suffer him to be capa∣ble of repenting. But because he was wholly taken up with entertaining his Mistress and his own joys, he de∣sir'd me to take some care for the magnificence of the Feast. Wherefore searching in my memory all the gal∣lantries which I had seen in my travels, I may say, I contributed something to the divertisement of the Marriage. I omit to tell you that Bostar made continu∣al feastings for three days, that there were publick sports, and several exercises, for which Lysonice gave the prize, that on the Feast-day there was a very gal∣lant Ball; but I shall only tell you, that the next day, because all the Africans are exquisite Dancers, we made a kind of a Masque, which I had devis'd, wherein Pasi∣lia, Delisia, and some other Ladies danc'd; and it was receiv'd not without some applause.

Though we were not at the Marriage (said Plotina interrupting him) do not think but we will be at the Masque, and you shall not escape without telling us something of it.

If I could remember the Verses (answer'd Amil∣car) I would tell you them with pleasure, but they were made in such haste, that I did not think them worthy of retaining. The unpremeditated Poetry of Amil∣car (said Valeria) excels the most elaborate of others. However (said Plotina) tell us the Subject and Order of the Masque, and at least some of the Verses. I will, Madam, (answer'd he) but first, I must tell you, that I devis'd it, that being the per∣sons there were partly of the Court, and partly

of the Country, I feign'd that there were two Cupids, one which might be nam'd the Cupid of the Court, and the other the Countrey-Cupid. And therefore I intitul'd our Masque

The different Effects of LOVE.

THe Castle werein we were, having a large Hall, I caus'd a great Theatre to be erected in it from side to side. One end of it was adorn'd with the re∣presentation of stately Palaces, and the other with an agreeable Landskip. On the right side of the Theatre appear'd first the Cupid of the Court with a Bow painted and guilded, a Quiver of the same, adorn'd with Jewels, his Wings painted and guilded, a Torch in his hand, and follow'd by Jealousie, Dissimulation, Fear and Fury.

On the other side of the Theatre appear'd the Country-Cupid with a Bow and a Quiver adorn'd with flowers, follow'd by Hope, Laughter, Sports, Pleasures, and Jealousie, which appear'd not so fright∣ful as the other, and was accompani'd only with light fears and suspicions which I had represented pleasantly enough.

Then either of these Cupids made a Speech, in which they related their power. After which defying one another to give proofs of it, they danc'd together in a threatning manner.

After this, the Entries were diversifi'd, namely, there was one of the Cupid of the Court, and another of the Cupid of the Country, with a different sort of Musick agreeing to either of them: of which I am going to give you as good a relation as my memory will permit me.

But to the end the several Entries might not be confounded, the two Cupids always appear'd there alternately, shewing the effects which they pretended to have caus'd.

The first Entry of the Cupid of the Court, was a King in Love with a Young Shepherdess; and the first of the Cupid of the Country, was a Young Shep∣herd coming out of a poor Cottage, proper, jovial, spruce, active at all sorts of exercises, though he had been taught the same only by Love.

The second Entry of the Cupid of the Court was an old Miser, offering all his Treasure to a Young Mistress, who laught at him as she took them: and the second Entry of the Country Cupid was a Young Shepherd, who giving his Shepherdess but a Shep∣hook engraven with the Letters of her name, was re∣ceiv'd by him with a thousand caresses.

The third Entry of the Cupid of the Court, was three jealous and ill-us'd Lovers, fighting together in the presence of their Mistress who laught at them; and the third Entry of the Country Cupid was two Shepherds, who singing the best they could before their mistress, had an innocent contest together, of which her heart was the subject.

The fourth Entry of the Cupid of the Court was a foolish Gossip, delivering Letters, Bracelets of Hair and Pictures to four Lovers, without their perceiv∣ing it, with which she made her self pleasant with an old she-friend of hers: and the fourth Entry of the Country Cupid was a young Shepherdess, who having a Sheep of her Flock stray'd away, carefully sought for it, and afterwards receiv'd it from the hand of her Shepherd who brought it back to her, after he had slain a Wolf that would have prey'd upon it.

The fifth Entry of the Cupid of the Court was a Young Lacedemonian virgin, follow'd by four Athe∣nians, who requir'd their hearts again of her, inti∣mating thereby that the hatred of Nations does not hinder but love may arise between persons that are enemies: and the fifth Entry of the Country Cupid, was a Young Shepherdess, looking upon three Young Shepherds who strove for the prize of a race: the first running very swiftly without regarding her, ar∣riv'd at the Goal before the rest; the second turning his head to see her, was cast behind; and the third not being able to pass further, stay'd just before her; after which the Young Shepherdess gave a Garland of Flowers to those that had run best, but she gave her heart to the third: at which the others were so dis∣contented, that they went away in great despair.

The last Entry of the Cupid of the Court was men and women of quality, who having danc'd a while, stood in order to hear a Sonnet sung by Youth, which was admirably well represented, and in few, words spoke a thousand things in praise of the Cupid of the Court, to whom alone belong'd gallantry, magnifi∣cence, and liberality: and the sixth and last Entry of the Country Cupid was several Shepherds and Shep∣herdesses, who danc't to Songs under Trees, alter∣nately, answering one another. That which they sung was a kind of Dialogue, in which I made a little mer∣ry Satyre against the Cupid of the Court, and an Ele∣gium in favour of the innocence of the Country Cupid. After which those of the Court and the Shepherds uniting, and there appearing but one Cupid, who re∣presented something of both the other which had been seen, they acknowledg'd one another, and ended the Mask with a Speech, which concluded, to the ho∣nour of Love, and in the name of all those that had appear'd.

Come then and let's adore At Courts and pleasant Springs, This lovely Conqueror Of Shepherds and of Kings. Unhappy he whose heart Receives not Cupid's wound, Without the torments of his Dart, No pleasure's to be found.

How? (said Plotina) do you think you shall not tell us some of the Verses of the Mask? In good earnest, Madam (answer'd Amilcar) I have the great∣est desire in the World to do it, but it does not please my memory; and all that I can do, is only to tell you the four Verses which I made for that young La∣cedemonian Virgin who was follow'd by the four A∣thenians, which requir'd their hearts again of her: yet they did not serve, and I was forc't to make others, because I had Greece so much in my head when I made them, that I did not remember I was in Africa. But they were these.

Why, unjust enemies, do you accuse me? I've stoln a hundred hearts (so Love refuse me!) But how can any dwells in Greece not know, My Country Sparta's Laws do theft allow?

No doubt you will say I have studied very deeply, and adde that I have an odde memory; but since I know not how to do otherwise, 'tis better that you do not interrupt me, but suffer me to finish my story. I will not detain you with exaggerating Cloranisbes joy;

for it was great beyond the possibility of expression. Bostar also was highly contented, Cyrene was extreme∣ly satisfied; Pasilia and Delisia, hoping to go to the Court with their Kinswoman, were ravish't with joy; and Lysonice having married a very worthy person that lov'd her ardently, and who she believ'd would shortly carry her to Utica, seem'd as contented as any one in the World. Soon after I was recall'd by the Prince, and oblig'd to leave Cloranisbes with the fair Lysonice. At my taking leave of him, he desir'd me to speak as little as I could of Lysonice when I should be with the Prince, and only to say by the by that her beauty was much improv'd since I had seen her first; but above all, to beware of discovering that he was amorous of her: and accordingly I did as he desir'd, and that with sufficient address. So being oblig'd by the Prince to come away about some affairs of his, I departed as you have known, and left things in that condition.

But I have understood by a Friend of Cloranisbes whom he has sent to me, that the face of things is since much alter'd. For fifteen days after his Nuptials the Prince recall'd him to Utica. Lysonice was desi∣rous to accompany her Husband; but for that he was loth the Prince should see her so soon, he told her, that having as yet no house there fit for her accommo∣dation, it was more requisite for himself to go alone to make preparations; chusing rather to part for some time from the person whom he lov'd, than to venture to have her seen by the Prince so soon after his marriage; for he found that he had not sufficient power over himself to hide his passion for Lysonice, if they should be seen together at Utica. Besides, it is always natural enough to defer a thing which we fear, as much as possibly we can. So he left Lysonice, and promis'd her that he would return to her with all speed. At his coming to the Court, he found the Prince had broken off with his Mistress, was very much offended with her, likely never to love her more. Whereupon Cloranisbes us'd all the industry and ad∣dress he could to re-engage him, that so having his mind prepossest, he might take less notice of Lysonice's beauty when he should see her: but he could effect nothing. In the interim he writ every day to his dear Lysonice, he sent her Presents continually, and not having ceas'd to be a Lover by becoming a Husband, there was no care which he did not use to please her: he went to see her several times; and as often as he saw her, he found out new impediments of her journey to Utica. One time he said his house was not ready; another, that it was requisite to expect till the Princess of Cartbage were reconcil'd with her bro∣ther; another, that winter was not a healthful season wherein to go and reside at Utica: so that, though Lysonice accounted the time very long, yet she did not disbelieve what Cloranisbes told her, but hop'd that at least in the Spring she should go to Court. The Winter-time was thus pass'd over, but Spring being come, Cloranisbes found himself sufficiently perplex'd; for Lysonice knowing he had a house in the Country within half a days journey of Utica, she askt him to permit her at least to go thither for a month. Which not daring to refuse her, and judging also that it would be more convenient for him to go and see her there than elsewhere, he consented to. So Lysonice went to that place, and Pasilia and Delisia with her: but assoon as it was known at Utica that she was there, several persons went to visit her, Cloranisbes with all his address being unable to hinder them. Wherefore, seeing Lysonice has one of those surprising beauties, which such as behold the first time cannot refrain from speaking of, all that saw her, highly cry'd her up at their return to Utica, and rais'd such a report of her, that the Prince of Carthage hearing how ex∣ceedingly she was extoll'd, was surpris'd at it, calling to mind what Cloranisbes had answer'd him, when he shew'd him Lysonice's picture. Which sticking much in his thoughts, he ask'd one of those that had seen Lysonice whether he remembred to have sometimes seen a picture of her in his Chamber. Yes, my Lord (said that man, who knew nothing of what had pass'd between the Prince and Cloranisbes) but I can assure you without falshood, that Lysonice is a thousand times handsomer than that picture. But are you well assur'd of what you say? (reply'd the Prince) It will be easie for you, my Lord (answer'd the man) to be satisfi'd of it; for 'tis unlikely that Lysonice will never come to Utica. After this the Prince seem'd suffici∣ently pensive; for coming to consider that Cloranisbes did not cause his wife to come to Court, and that he had seen her while he was in banishment, he began to suspect that he might have told him an untruth; wherefore being desirous to know the certainty, and to be resolv'd by his own eyes, he purposed to go a hun∣ting towards the side where Lysonice's house was; without letting Cloranisbes know of it, to the end he might not remove her. And indeed the Prince us'd so much care to hide his intention, that Cloranisbes was not advertis'd of it till the Prince was on horse-back for the hunting match. This put him to a great per∣plexity: nevertheless he conceal'd his disturbance, and went to the hunting with the rest. He seem'd also a more forward Hunter than any of those that follow'd the Prince; and whereas 'tis easie to turn out of the way in a chase, without any notice to be taken of it, Cle∣ranisbes, who knew the shortest and most unfrequented passages to go from Utica to his House, separated from the rest in a Wood, and putting his Horse on at full speed, went with incredible diligence to find Ly∣senice, who was but beginning to dress her Head, and who in the tediousness of solitude did not much mind attiring her self. When she saw Cloranisbes arrive in such apparent haste, she askt him what the matter was, and how it hapned that he arriv'd so early: For you must needs have set forth very betimes in the mor∣ning (added she) or else you have travel'd very fast. I have done both (answer'd he) and the cause of my coming in such haste, is, for that I believe the Prince will come hither at the end of the chase. Lysonice be∣ing very glad of this news, bid her women advertise Pasilia and Delisia of it; after which, turning her self towards Cloranisbes, You have much oblig'd me (said she to him) in giving me this notice; for otherwise, the Prince would have found me in a negligent dress which would have sham'd you. Go then (added she) and give order to your people to make some hand∣some preparations for entertaining the Prince, and in the mean time (continu'd she smiling) I will go and dress my self to the best advantage I can, to the end to do you honour. I beseech you Madam (said he to her) enter into your Closet a moment, that I may speak with you there. Lysonice not being able to conjecture what Cloranisbes had to say to her, arise up, and did as he desir'd. She was no sooner enter'd into her Closet, but Cloranisbes looking upon her with very much love and sadness together, I beseech you, my dear Lysonice (said he to her) do not refuse me a request I have to make to you; and when you have granted it me,

never ask me wherefore I made it. Since what you say to me (answer'd she) signifies some diffidence, you must permit me to be a little surpriz'd. How∣ever, speak, if you please, what you desire of me. I wish (said he to her) that, if you will oblige me, you would feign your self sick to day, and instead of adorning your self, as you intend, be as carelesly attir'd as you can; let the Curtains of your Windows be drawn, let the Pillows of your Bed be depress'd, and finally, let there be so little day in your Chamber that the Prince may not yet know that I am the most happy of all men. How? my Lord, (interrupted Lysonice, blushing with anger) is the solitude then in which I am, an effect of so strange a jealousie, as ren∣ders you capable of the most outragious caution that ever was? What? my Lord (added she again) do you believe that if I should excite love in the Prince, it would be easie for him to excite the like in me, now I am your Wife? I confess indeed (continu'd this offended Fair) that being naturally ambitious, if he had lov'd me heretofore, he might have been not ill-treated, even though he were not so worthy a person as he is; but as things are now, you do me an injury which cannot be repair'd. Alas! charming Lysonice (said he to her) I beseech you do not con∣demn me so lightly. I swear to you I am not jealous; 'tis ambition alone which causes me to act thus, and 'tis only for your sake that I make you a request which seems so unreasonable to you. But grant me, if it be possible, that which I desire of you, without obliging me to tell you the reason which forces me to it; and go not to imagine that I suspect your virtue, or out of a sentiment of jealousie fear, lest the Prince should excite love in you. That which I do has another cause, I swear to you with all the sincerity which I am capa∣ble. No, no, my Lord (reply'd she) you can have no other sentiment in your soul, but jealousie, and I see well (added she with tears in her eyes) that I am only to prepare my self to be the most unhappy per∣son in the world. For what means is there to cure a jealousie which foresees the future so far off? and how can such an injury as this be forgotten? I have in a manner seen nothing but Trees since I was your Wife (proceeded she in great passion) I have heard nothing but Birds, and convers'd with none but Pasilia, Deli∣sia and your self; and yet, I see, this does not hin∣der you from being jealous. I protest to you once again, Madam (said he to her) I am not jealous. But if you are not (answer'd she) tell me then the reason which obliges you to make me so strange a request. The fear of being less lov'd by you Madam (reply'd he) is the sole cause which hinders me from telling you that which you desire. I assure you (said she) this motion of yours is so strange, that you can tell me nothing which is more; and my mind is so disturb'd with the ill-grounded suspicion you have of my virtue, that I think this injury will never be obliterated out of it. Then Cloranisbes seeing Lysonice was extremely in∣cens'd, resolv'd of a sudden to tell her the truth, though he fear'd she would possibly hate him for having hinder'd her from being Princess of Carthage. Nevertheless, he had liv'd so well with her, he was in a dignity so considerable, and she liv'd so well with him that he hop'd it might be advantagious to him to tell her the proceeding he had us'd to attain her. So having made a thousand protestations to her, of a serious af∣fection, he began to tell her▪ that he had given her a testimony of love which she knew not of, and for which withal, he fear'd she would not thank him. After which he ingenuously confest his whole pro∣ceeding to her, as it was done, and so let her know that the love he had for her, had oblig'd him to tell the Prince she was not so handsome as her Picture, and consequently to hinder her from marrying. Cloranis∣bes told her this with all the art imaginable: but after all, Lysonice knew very well, that had it not been for him, she had been Princess of Carthage; whereupon she could not keep her self from seeming surpris'd and changing colour. Which Cloranisbes observing, Well, Madam (said he to her) had I not reason to be unwil∣ling to tell you the truth? but I beseech you, consider every thing thoroughly which may render me excu∣sable to you. The sole excess of my passion caus'd me to betray the Prince, and the sole excess of my passion has oblig'd me to make the request to you which I have done. For, in fine, if the Prince see you with all your charms, in the condition wherein I know his mind is to day, he will perhaps banish me, and then you will be the Wife of an unfortunate exile, which is certainly the thing you fear most in the World. For my part, I declare to you, if you were of ano∣ther humor, I should glory in being banisht with you, and be so far from entreating you to hide your beauty, that I should desire you to make it more conspicuous with all that Art can add to Nature, to the end to be rather banish'd and go live in some agree∣able Desart, where you would be instead of all things to me, and where I should account my self happy with you alone. But on the contrary, Madam, your inclination leading you to love the world, and be∣ing unwilling to restrain it, I conjure to you appear neglectedly this day in the eyes of the Prince, and de∣fer making your self seen with all your charms, till his Love be setled upon some Lady; for when he is amo∣rous, he is prejudic'd against the beauty of all other women. By this means he may see you without know∣ing that I have betray'd him; and after this, you shall come to Utica, and live there as you please. In the mean time pardon me, my dear Lysonice, the Treason I have committed against you, be contented to reign absolutely in my heart, and consider that if I had not lov'd you, I had not debar'd you of a glory which you deserve. Being you have much wit, my Lord (answer'd she) you turn things as you please. Not but that, what you have done in this occasion (ad∣ded she) has been the act of a self-interessed, and not at all of a generous Lover; for if you had acted no∣bly, you should first have told me the truth, and after∣wards endeavour'd to perswade me to prefer you be∣fore the Prince; but, in fine, let us leave what is past as it is, it being always fruitless to speak of it; but for the present know, I do not cease to believe, after all which you have said, that the request you have made to me is sufficiently injurious.

As Cloranisbes was going to answer, one came to tell him that a great many Hunters appear'd in the Plain; so that believing it was the Prince, being un∣willing he should find him at home, he was constrain'd to leave Lysonice in haste, and go forth at a back-door. But before he left her, he said several very passionate things to her, whereto she gave no direct answer. After which getting upon his Horse, he went to fetch a great compass, to come and overtake the Prince, who was not so near as Cloranisbes servants had believ'd; because by thinking to take a shorter way, he lost himself in a Wood. In the mean time Lysonice who is naturally ambitious, could not hinder her self from having a secret anger for the testimony

of Love Cloranisbes had render'd her; although she had no design to be reveng'd on him for it in a Crimi∣nal way: but she could never resolve to counterfeit her self sick, and appear carelesly dress'd. On the con∣trary, believing that when the Prince had seen her, she should afterwards go to the Court, she lik'd better that he should see her on a sudden, than defer it lon∣ger; and as nothing is more repugnant to a handsome person than to shew her self after a manner disadvan∣tageous to her beauty, Lysonice attir'd her self as well as she was accustom'd, and something better too; though as I said, she had no intention to excite love in the Prince, but only to despite Cloranisbes, and to be afterwards at liberty to live at Court. After she was dress'd, Pasilia and Delisia who had adorn'd them∣selves too, came to her, and were much surpriz'd to observe that she had some kind of commotion mix'd with anger in her eyes, which denoted to them that she was troubled. So that demanding the cause of her, she told it them with a certain air, which gave them to understand that ambition was always her predomi∣nant passion. A little while after, the sound of hun∣ting instruments was heard, which signifi'd the ap∣proaching arrival of the Prince. And presently Lyso∣nice beheld a body of persons of Quality, a great number of slaves, and a very magnificent equipage enter into the Court. But this pomp rather afflicted than pleas'd her, out of the thought that Cloranisbes had hinder'd her from being wife to the Prince for whom this magnificence was.

In the mean time Cloranisbes having fetcht a great turn, had overtaken the Prince of Carthage, without his suspecting that he had been at his house; and to act the more cunningly, he made as if he had not known that the Prince intended to go see Lysonice. So that addressing to him, If I had known, my Lord (said he to him) that you intended to hunt on this side, I should have order'd Lysonice to have caus'd a Collation to be prepar'd for you at the end of the Chase; but I conceiv'd it was not fit to dare to pro∣pound to you to go to a place where you are not ex∣pected. Persons of my condition (said the Prince) are so accustom'd to be expected, that sometimes they delight to go where they are not; and therefore since I am so near your house, I will go see Lysonice. Being she writ to me yesterday that she was a little indispos'd (reply'd Cloranisbes, believing his wife would do as he had desir'd her) I know not whether she will be in a condition to receive the honour which you intend to do her. We shall see that presently (answer'd the Prince) for the hunting does not pleasure me so well to day, as that I have any mind to continue it longer. And so taking the shortest way, the Prince being pre∣ceeded or follow'd by all his Attendants, went to Clo∣ranisbes house, which was not inferior to that wherein he first saw Lysonice. But in entring into the second Court, Cloranisbes was much surpris'd to see Lysonice upon the Stone-stairs of the entrance, accompani'd with Pasilia and Delisia, and to see her there in an at∣tire, which though it had little shew of the Country negligence, was nevertheless graceful and magnificent; for he knew thereby that her mind was much exaspe∣rated: yet he dissembled his thoughts at that time. But for that Lysonice was handsomer in the open day than in the shadow, the Prince of Carthage and all his fol∣lowers were so surprised with the rare lustre of her beauty, that they could not contain from testifying their admiration. The Prince of Carthage who was alighted from his horse, assoon as he perceiv'd Lysonice, went to∣wards her with precipitation, and saluted her with a civility which signifi'd to her that he accounted her ad∣mirably handsome; for he had almost omitted to sa∣lute Pasilia and Delisia, though they were very amia∣ble. I am more oblig'd to Cloranisbes than I thought, Madam (said the Prince to Lysonice) for his constant residence with me; for being so fair a person as I see you are, it would be more acceptable for him to be with you. The pleasure of doing a duty is so great (an∣swer'd she) that 'tis not much to be wonder'd, my Lord, if Cloranisbes prefer you before me. 'Tis a pleasure (reply'd the Prince sufficient roughly) which perhaps he has not always so much lov'd. After this, being enter'd into the Hall, the conversation of the Prince with Lysonice continu'd. The Persons of Qua∣lity that accompani'd him discours'd amongst them∣selves, or with Pasilia and Delisia: and Cloranisbes being in a strange perplexity, spoke sometimes to one and sometimes to another; for his mind was incens'd with Lysonice's proceedings, he fear'd lest the Prince should discover the truth, and he apprehended above all things that Lysonice would love him no more, and that she could not pardon him the deceit his passion had caus'd him to commit. In the mean time the Prince of Carthage finding Lysonice every moment more handsome, could not contain from expressing part of what he thought. For my part (said he to her) I confess I do not understand wherefore Clora∣nisbes has not told me a thousand times of his happi∣ness, and why he hath not continually discours'd to me of you. 'Tis no doubt (answer'd she coldly) because a husband scarce ever speaks pertinently of his wife. But before he had married you (reply'd the Prince) he spoke to me as little of you; but on the contrary he declin'd speaking of you, and moreover affirm'd to me that a Picture which I had of you, was a flat∣tering Picture. Nevertheless, I see at present that he went far from the truth in speaking so. For my part, my Lord (answer'd Lysonice blushing with in∣dignation) I so little know my self, that I know not whether Cloranisbes had not reason: but I con∣ceive well, he would have done more obligingly for me, by suffering you to believe that I was as hand∣some as my Picture. I agree with you, Madam (re∣ply'd he) and I think moreover he would have more oblig'd me than you by not opposing my admiration. But to repair the injury that I did your beauty, by believing your Picture handsomer than your self, I will this day begin to admire you anew, and to publish that there is no beauty in the world compa∣rable to yours. Lysonice hereupon so modestly declin'd the praises which the Prince gave her, that she ap∣pear'd thereby the more charming. And then she acted with such address, that she drew Pasilia and Delisia into their conversation, which by degrees be∣came altogether general.

After this the Prince with his Company went to walk, and at his return he found a stately Collation, though there was but a very short time to prepare it; and then began the discourse to be about hunting, gaming, and other divertisements. The Prince told Cloranisbes aloud, that it was not just to leave Lyso∣nice so long in the Country, that she was too fit for the world to live in solitude; and that it was re∣quisite to cause her to go speedily to Court. Clora∣nisbes being unwilling to pass for a jealous husband, answer'd that Lysonice was Mistress of her own actions, and might do what pleas'd her self. I have all my life so little known by experience (reply'd she) what

it is to do ones own will, that I know not whether I ought to begin to learn, for fear if I did it once I should desire to do it all my life. Not that I ac∣cuse Cloranisbes (added she) but all women in gene∣ral are expos'd to this unhappiness, and a part of their virtue consists ordinarily in having no other will but theirs to whom the Law of Morality subjects them. 'Tis true (said Pasilia) we are born under the ne∣cessity to obey almost always, and never to com∣mand. On the contrary (answer'd the Prince) all obey beauty, and it belongs only to Ladies to command, Men request all their lives, and never command. In truth, my Lord (reply'd Delisia) I know not whether they request or command, but I know well they ordinarily do what they please. In effect (added Lysonice) assoon as young persons cease to learn to read, they begin to have so good opinion of themselves, as to think they are more able than their Masters, more deserving than their Fathers, and more wise than the Law: and as for their Mistresses, I assure you, they know not very well how to obey them, they love them for their own sakes only, they seek their own interest, without caring for the per∣sons whom they love; and in fine they always do whatever is agreeable to their own humor, without considering the will of another. While Lysonice was speaking thus, Cloranisbes was gone to shew a Kinsman of the Prince a very handsome Horse which he had a desire to, so that Lysonice spoke with liberty of the subjection of women. Not that I speak out of dis∣content (continu'd she) because I desire many things which I do not; but only because there is indeed some kind of injustice in being eternally servile. I account this Law as hard as you do (answer'd Pasilia) but I confess to the shame of my Sex, women many times use liberty so ill when it is allow'd them intire∣ly, that the folly of some excuses in some sort the ser∣vitude of all the rest. For I know a woman in Massi∣lia who has done a hundred extravagancies in her life, which she would not have committed if she had not had a too indulgent Husband. Ha! Pasilia (reply'd Delisia) there was never any that could be call'd so. For my part (said the Prince smiling) I believe a handsome woman can never have one too indulgent. And for my part (said Pasilia) I conceive a Gossip and a young imprudent woman can never have one too severe. Yet 'tis a strange thing (said the Prince) for a husband to guard his wife. 'Tis a stranger (answer'd Pasilia) to see a man voluntarily shut his eyes that he may not see how many gallants his wife has that follow her, write to her, shew her Letters, boast of her savours, and laugh both at her and him. But what should an honest man do (reply'd Delisia) when he is so unhappy as to have a wife who has no true virtue nor government of her self? for I do not account those wives virtuous, who because they are not absolutely criminal, make no scruple of beginning several Gallantries which expose them to slander, and cause them to commit a thousand follies which ren∣der them despis'd even by them for whose sakes they do them. You have reason (answer'd Lysonice) not to put the less criminal Gossips in the rank of women indued with virtue; for certainly if they be not the most culpable of all, they are always the most foolish. I am of your mind (reply'd Delisia) but however what must a poor husband do, who is so un∣happy as to have a wife of this humor? If my judg∣ment may pass (answer'd the Prince) he shall take his pleasure on his own side as well as he can, and see nothing but what he is willing to see. And if my judgment may pass (reply'd Pasilia) a husband that has such a kind of wife, must flatter her for some time, he must endeavour to win her by sweetness, reason, and address, to procure her virtuous Friends of her own Sex, to see that she have not a slave to wait up∣on her that is not virtuous, to cause her to love inno∣cent pleasures; and lastly, to cause her at least in some sort to fear him, if she cannot love him. If all this prove ineffectual, I allow him to act like a Master, to regulate the visits which she gives and receives, and send her too into the Country. For, in fine, I will not have a husband peaceably endure his wife to be a Gossip. But is there any thing which seems more strange (said the Prince) than a jealous husband? people laugh at him and flout him, and say that by being jelous, he almost deserves to have his wife a Gossip. A jealous Sot (answer'd Pasilia) is cer∣tainly a sottish thing; but a gallant prudent man ought not to be lookt upon as one that is jealous. On the contrary he is to be pitied and esteem'd: but as for one that is of a jealous nature, who perse∣cutes an innocent wife without cause or colour, I con∣sent that he be derided for it, and that whatever may augment his jealousie be wish'd to befal him. Were you desirous to be married speedily at Utica (re∣ply'd Lysonice smiling) you could not speak better than you do, to give a good opinion of your self.

After this, because it was sufficiently late, the Prince retir'd, but so surpris'd and so charm'd with Lyso∣nice, that he could not refrain from expressing how amiable he judg'd her. At parting, he askt her, whether she would not come shortly to Utica, and omitted to tell her nothing which he thought requi∣site to testifie to her that she pleas'd him infinitely. Cloranisbes having ••••••en call'd by the Prince, could not speak to Lysonice; besides, loving her so much as he did, and the deceit his love had made him guilty of being discover'd to her, he knew not very well what to say to her; for how dissatisfied soever he was, he was loth to make any sharp complaint, and so he left her without speaking to her.

The Prince of Carthage was so pensive all the way as he return'd, that he scarce spoke twenty words till he arriv'd at Utica. But when he was there, and beheld Cloranisbes alone with him, he lookt stedfast∣ly upon him, and speaking to him, Confess the truth, Cloranisbes (said he to him) when I shew'd you Ly∣sonice's Picture one day, you told me it was handsomer than she, only because you accounted her the hand∣somest person in the world? I acknowledge it in∣genuously, my Lord (answer'd he) but if I would I could maintain to you, that I accounted Lysonice less handsome than her Picture; for none could con∣vince me of an untruth; since we see every day, that which pleases one, displeases another, and opi∣nions are different upon all sorts of things. Ha! Clo∣ranisbes (reply'd the Prince) that may be in mean beauties, but Lysonice is not of this rank, and no per∣son in the world can pretend to have seen any thing, or conceive that a Painter could make a Picture so handsome as she: and this was the reason (added he) that you would have her be yours and not mine. It was not, my Lord (answer'd Cloranisbes) because Lysonice was fair, that I fail'd in my duty, but only because I desperately lov'd her. I understand it so (re∣ply'd the Prince) but if it be true that you betray'd me because you lov'd her, it is also true that you lov'd her because she was handsome. However it be,

my Lord (answer'd Cloranisbes) I did not fail in my duty without reluctancy, and I account my self so unhappy in having been Criminal against you, that the thought of it disturbs part of my felicity. Being what is pass'd cannot be recall'd (said the Prince) let us speak no more of it. But for that it is not just for Lysonice to suffer for your sake, cause her to come to Court, and do not keep her longer in a solitude, which no question is tedious to her. Cloranisbes then spoke all he thought conducive to excuse himself with the Prince, who accordingly made semblance of being satisfied with him. So that Cloranisbes was now al∣most glad that the business was over thus; to the end he might be no longer oblig'd to cause Lysonice to stay in the Countrey. Yet he was much discontented that she had refus'd to be carelesly dress'd that day; how∣ever believing she had done so out of despight which had something of noble in it, he sought to appease himself. But so did not Lysonice; for having seen the Prince, all that great equipage of hunting, and all his Court, ambition reviv'd in her heart; and she was so far from considering what Cloranisbes had done as a testimony of his love, that she judg'd it as a weak∣ness of his passion, and an injurious fact. Yet Pa∣silia and Delisia did all they could to temper her mind; but all they could obtain was, that she would constrain her self as much as she could from testifying further resentment to Cloranisbes. For, in fine, (said Pasilia to her) that which is pass'd cannot be recall'd; and moreover after all, you are wife of a very wor∣thy man, who loves you dearly, and who being be∣lov'd by the Prince, holds one of the first ranks in the Court. I confess (answer'd Lysonice) but if I am not deceiv'd, he will not hold it long; and if the art of conjectures be not absolutely false, I am ex∣pos'd to many infelicities. Yet I am resolv'd (ad∣ded she) to support them with the greatest con∣stancy I can, and to do nothing which may cause me to deserve the misfortunes which I foresee will befall me. These were the sentiments of Lyso∣nice.

Cloranisbes who always lov'd her with the highest ardor, and who would not be accounted jealous neither by her, nor the Prince, nor the Court, writ to her the next day to tell her that he desir'd her to come to Utica, without taking any notice of that which she had deny'd him. This motion sufficiently pleas'd Lysonice, who resolv'd without scruple to obey Cloranisbes. So she joyfull left her Desart, and went to Utica accompanied with her two amiable Kinswomen. Assoon as she ar∣riv'd there, she was visited by the Prince, all the men of Quality, and all the Ladies; and her beauty was so cry'd up in the Court, that scarce any thing else was spoken of. The most eminent Beau∣ties willingly yielded to her, and confess'd that no∣thing could equal the charms of Lysonice. This fair person much affecting the world, she was at first so glad of being there, that she forgot part of her discontent. Not but that as often as she saw the Prince, or beheld only his Palace or Windows, some displeasing thoughts arose in her mind.

But now the presence of Lysonice, and the desire to please her, occasion'd the making of several appointments for divertisement in the Court. Clo∣ranisbes had made indeed some obliging reproa∣ches to Lysonice for having refus'd to do as he had desir'd her: but being he still lov'd her ardently, this little anger was easily appeas'd. But if Clora∣nisbes was in quiet, the Prince of Carthage was not; for though he had a great dearness for Cloranisbes; yet after he had seen Lysonice, it came of a sudden to decrease, and shortly to be wholly extinct. But which was most cruel, at the rate of friendship diminish'd in his heart towards Cloranisbes, love augmented for Lysonice, and he became so amorous of her, that he had not a moment of rest. He would have oppos'd his passion with a sentiment of ge∣nerosity in the beginning, and of friendship too for Cloranisbes; and to fortifie himself to that pur∣pose, he discover'd his secret to him that is come hither to find me, whose name is Anherbal, and told him that he was the most unhappy of all men. For, in fine, (said he to him) I love a person, who I know well would have lov'd me out of ambition, if Cloranisbes had not betry'd me, and who per∣haps now out of honour will never love me. But, my Lord (answer'd he to whom he entrusted the se∣cret of his heart) would you have been satisfied with it, if Lysonice had lov'd you only out of an ambitious sentiment? Believe me (reply'd the Prince) it mat∣ters not much to a Lover out of what sentiments he is lov'd, provided he be so; nor ought he much to care whether it be for his good personage, for his wit, or for his quality. For my part, my Lord (answer'd my Friend) I should be more scrupulous than you; for if I were not lov'd for my own sake, I would not be lov'd at all. That which you say (re∣ply'd the Prince) is plausibly said by one that loves nothing; but when a man is amorous, he turns to another language; and rather than never be lov'd, I would be so for a thousand extrinsecal considerati∣ons, in which my merit has no part. As for me, my Lord (said Anherbal) I am of opinion the more a man loves, the harder he is to be contented; and so, I confess ingenuously to you, that if I lov'd, I would be lov'd again for my own self; and I should make no esteem of those favours which I did not owe to a great affection. If it were in my power to chuse (an∣swer'd the Prince) I would wish that which you speak; but it being otherwise, I content my self with what I can; and there is nothing which I am not capable of suffering, rather than to be never favour'd. For the aim of love is the possession of the person whom we love, and therefore this only ought to be sought af∣ter, and all means whereby it is attainable are good, be it by wit, by merit, or dignity of condition. But, my Lord (reply'd Anherbal) do you not think that Lysonice undoubtedly loves her Husband, and that Cloranisbes is so zealous for your service, that he de∣serves you should not destroy his felicity? I know all that you say (answer'd the Prince) but I know also that Cloranisbes has betray'd me; and if I shall have no regard to his interests, I should do against him but what he has done against me: and whereas you say, Lysonice undoubtedly loves her husband, I have to answer you that an ambitious Wife may be more easi∣ly unfaithful than another; but because I do not pre∣tend to engage her in a criminal love, I will only ob∣lige Cloranisbes, as the Law permits, to resign her to me, that I may marry her, and he may marry another. How? my Lord (said Anherbal) do you care for ha∣ving divided favours? if so, permit me to tell you with all the respect I owe you, that you know not how to love well. For according to the humour I am of, I should like better never to obtain any thing of a person I lov'd, provided my Rivals were as unhappy

as my self, than to obtain the highest favours on con∣dition they were also granted to another. Ha! An∣herbal (said the Prince) this that you speak is too he∣roical for me, and I am strongly perswaded it would be absolutely impossible but a man truly amorous, if he were put to his choice, to be favour'd with ano∣ther Rival, or never to be so at all on condition no o∣ther should be more, would chuse rather to be fa∣vour'd in that manner than never to be at all. I know well there seems something unreasonable in that which I say (continued the Prince) but however I shall never conceive as long as I live, that a man can be unwilling to obtain the favours of a person whom he loves. I confess it my Lord (answer'd Anherbal) but yet assoon as I believ'd a woman capable of dividing her favours, I should love her no longer at all. Therefore my sentiments are not to be wonder'd at, being more truly amorous than yours. Be it how it will (said the Prince) I love Lysonice; and if she be willing to love me, and Cloranisbes to resign her to me, I will marry her with joy; and I declare to you, there is nothing which I will not attempt to cause my design to suc∣ceed.

Anherbal spoke many things further to avert the Prince from this resolution, but they were to no ef∣fect. But that he might have more frequent occasion of seeing Lysonice, he recall'd the Princess of Carthage to Court, who was ravish'd to observe the Prince's pas∣sion, because she hop'd to make use of it to be reveng'd on Cloranisbes whom she did not affect. To which purpose she made a thousand caresses to Lysonice, and sent to invite her to her continually. Cloranisbes soon perceiv'd the passion of the prince and the design of the princess; so that he was extremely afflicted at it, and could not keep himself from appearing sad, what resolution soever he had to dissemble his discontent. Whereupon Lysonice believing he was jealous, was much offended in her mind at it, because she could not endure to be suspected.

In the mean time the prince's passion augmenting every day, he resolv'd to discover it to Lysonice, and so afterwards to speak to Cloranisbes of it, in case he found any favourable disposition in the mind of this fair person. Being it is always easie for a Soveraign to find occasion of speaking in private, he soon had one to open his passion to Lysonice; though indeed it fell out naturally enough, after a conversation which I am going to relate to you.

The prince found Lysonice at the lodgings of the princess of Carthage, where there were also Pasilia, Delisia and divers other Ladies: Anherbal was there too, and several men of quality. Cloranisbes who at∣tended on the prince, seeing Lysonice arrive, would have gone away, that he might not see such things in the eyes of his Master as would extremely displease him, though he was not jealous. But the Princess of Carthage maliciously detain'd him, upon a pretext of having something to speak with him about; for she liv'd very civilly with him, though she hated him. At first the discourse was about an insurrection which was at that time at Carthage; but insensibly passing from policy to Love, it came to be question'd, Who is the most unhappy, a Lover that receives a thousand favours from his Mistress, and is jealous of her, or one that obtains none other, and has no jealousie at all. For my part (said the prince) I put no comparison be∣tween these; for I account it the greatest of all un∣happinesses not to be lov'd at all, and to obtain no favour from the person who is lov'd. Though I am not jealous (answer'd Cloranisbes) nevertheless, my Lord, I am of an opinion contrary to yours, and strongly perswaded that a jealous Lover will be a thousand times more miserable, though he obtain a thousand favours, than he who obtains nothing, if he be free from jealousie. What? (reply'd the prince) do you conceive a greater infelicity in love than not to be lov'd at all, and to desire a thousand things which you dare not hope? Ha! my Lord (answer'd Cloranisbes) there is nothing so bold as hope, and nothing so im∣possible which a man who loves ardently cannot hope. So that in his greatest torments he makes a comfort to himself which does not forsake him; the future seems more agreeable to him than the present; and hope never abandoning him, he is never altogether misera∣ble. But on the contrary, a favour'd Lover, who is jealous, has nothing but fear for an inseparable com∣panion. Every thing causes him to fear, every thing disquiets and afflicts him; and the very favours which he receives, becoming suspected to him, he imagines then when he is favour'd he is deluded, and that he is not treated well but only to be betray'd. All which you say, is very cruel (reply'd the Prince) but do you count it nothing to be continually in fear of being never favour'd at all? 'Tis a very severe sentiment (answer'd Cloranisbes) but nothing near that which causes a per∣petual fear of losing that which we enjoy and think we have purchas'd with a thousand services, and can never lose without injustice. Inasmuch as the fancy always magnifies all sorts of pleasures (reply'd the Prince) I conceive that a man not hoping to obtain the sweetnesses which he imagines infinite, is more mi∣serable, than he who fears to lose a good which he knows what it is. Ha! my Lord (cry'd Cloranisbes) assoon as the advantageous pre-conceiv'd opinion cea∣ses in love, love it self ceases, and jealousie would cease also if it could. But whereas on the contrary, that prepossession of the imagination increases at the same measure that jealousie does, a man by continuing jealous, comes at length not only to believe that the good which he enjoys is the greatest of all goods, but withal to perswade himself that all the people in the world believe it such, desire it, seek after it, and are ready to ravish it from him. Judge therefore, my Lord, if there be any comparison between an unhappy Lover free from jealousie, and a favour'd Lover who is jealous. No (answer'd the Prince) there is none; for an unhappy Lover without jealousie, is so much the more jealous, in that he can never cause his unhap∣piness to cease; because it does not depend on himself. Whereas a jealous Lover, and who is jealous with∣out cause, needs only to make a great resolution, and to make use of his reason to cure his evil. Ha! my Lord (cry'd Cloranisbes again) you ill understand jealousie, if you believe a jealous man able to cure himself of the evil which persecutes him. On the contrary he increases it every instant, by false conje∣ctures, ill deduc'd consequences, a thousand ground∣less suspicions, continual fears, causless reflexions, and imaginations void of all probability. A jealous man accounts nothing impossible, he believes he sees what he does not see, he believes he hears what he does not hear; there is not one of his senses but is liable to betray him, and his very reason, being perver∣ted by his fancy, and no longer understanding the art to distinguish truth from falshood, serves further to de∣lude him, and render him more miserable. You speak so well of jealousie (said the Princess of Carthage maliciously) that certainly you must needs have been

very jealous: I say, have been (added she) for the vertue of Lysonice is too great to permit you to be so still; and she is too fair to suspect you of having any other affection. Lysonice blusht at this discourse, and to hide her colour turn'd away her head, and fell to speak to Anherbal. As for Cloranisbes, he said gallant∣ly enough, that the question was not about a jealous Husband, but a jealous Lover, and that in what man∣ner soever the case were considered, he was wholly unconcern'd in the contestation. After this, there came some Ladies, who caus'd the conversation to change, and propounded to the Princess of Carthage to go take the air upon the Sea-shore, in a place where it is as streight as a 〈…〉〈…〉 and where it is as even as the course of the Olympick-Games. So that this motion being agreed to, all the Ladies went in Chariots, and men on horse-back, excepting Cloranisbes, who went not along with the company. When they were ar∣riv'd at the Sea-shore, all the Court walkt a foot in the handsomest place of the World; for when 'tis calm, the Sea as gently drives its billows upon the shore, as if it were no deeper than a small River. The sand of it is of a fair Colour, the shells which are seen on that side are very agreeable, and the herbs which the waves cast upon the banks delight the eyes with their lively and various colours. Besides, this vast extent of Sea which seems to unite with the Heaven, has a kind of grand aspect which pleases, and inspires re∣spect. On the other side stands Utica which makes a handsome shew, and several other Villages, and ma∣ny Cottages of Fishermen who by their rusticity a∣dorn this maritime prospect. In one place people are seen drying their Nets, and others mending them; in another, women making Baskets of Bulrushes which serve for fishing; otherwhere Fisher-boats scatter'd upon the Sea, and men sitting upon the Rocks, who holding lines in their hands, are as attentive and im∣movable as the Rocks upon which they sit. But how∣ever, observe what a place it was in which all this fair Court went to divert themselves. The Sun was then setting, and his last rays guilding all the surface of the Sea, and painting all the Clouds almost with the very colours of the morning, presented so fair a sight to the eyes of Lysonice, that leaving all the rest of the com∣pany to go forward, she sate down by the Sea side upon a Rock cover'd with verdant moss, and fell to consider with pleasure these several effects of the de∣clining Sun. But she had scarce began to muse, when the Prince leaving Anherbal to whom he was speaking, went to her, and respectfully interrupted her. I be∣seech you Madam (said he to her) tell me whether you decide the question in your mind, of which Clo∣ranisbes and I lately disputed. In truth, my Lord (said she to him and rise up) I was not thinking of it, but I was only considering at this instant whether the Sea were not more graceful than the Sky. That's but an inconsiderable question to entertain the mind of a fair person (answer'd he) who has a thousand other things to think of: however, being this sight pleases you, stay where you are, and only suffer me to be with you. And so Lysonice placing her self again upon the Rock where she sate, the Prince seated himself upon another which was right against her, and began to discourse to her. I wish, Madam (said he to her) whilst your eyes are diverted with seeing all those tremulous lights which the waves beating upon one another shew you, you would really tell me, what sentiment you were of a while since during our dispute, and whether you would not more pity a Lover that were not jealous and had the unhappiness not to be lov'd, than one that were favour'd and extremely jealous. I am so perswaded (answer'd Lysonice) that such as are causlesly jealous deserve all the torments which they suffer, that I need not deliberate to determine my self in favour of an unhappy Lover, who is not jealous, and to grant him my compassion rather than to a fa∣vour'd and jealous lover, who almost ever becomes the most inacceptable Lover in the world, assoon as he is possess'd with a vehement jealousie. I am oblig'd to you, Madam (said the Prince to her) and I owe you many thanks. In truth, my Lord (answer'd she) you have no great obligation to me, since I only speak my opinion so as it is. I have more than you believe (reply'd he) and to leave you no ground to doubt of it, know, I am one of those unhappy Lovers, who love with favours and without jealousie, but who love so desperately, that never was any lover so miserable as I. When I engag'd my self to have compassion (said she) I did not imagine, my Lord, that you were concern'd in the case. That knowledge, Madam (answer'd the Prince) ought not to cause you to change that mind; on the contrary, I am perswaded there is not one of my Subjects for whom you ought to have so much compassion as for me. Methinks (reply'd she smiling) it would be a want of respect for any to dare to say they have pity on their Sove∣raign; and therefore, my Lord, you shall permit to seek out some other expression which may agree to you better. That you may find a more exact one (answer'd he) suffer me to tell you the greatness of my evil, for you cannot be ignorant of what nature it is, and no doubt you know, that after having lov'd your Picture which was less handsome than your self, I love you so ardently, that I have almost ceas'd to love Cloranisbes who has debarr'd me of that which belong'd to me, and hinder'd you from being Princess of Carthage.

Lysonice no doubt, was much amaz'd at this dis∣course of the prince, though she knew he was amorous of her. But her ambition made it a little less ungrate∣ful to her; Cloranisbes discontent incens'd her mind, and she was infinitely troubled with the thought of his being jealous. But after all, the same temper which inclin'd her to ambition, caus'd her to love ho∣nour, and hinder'd her from being able to consent to a criminal love. Nevertheless, being she believ'd Cloranisbes guilty of disloyal proceeding both towards the Prince and her self, and alike deficient in genero∣sity to them both, she did not reject the Prince with so much severity as she would have done in another case. I grant, my Lord (said she to him) I am oblig'd to you for the love you had for my Picture, and I ought as long as I live to acknowledge the advantage∣ous intention you had for my fortune at that time; but the case is not the same in reference to the love you say you have for me at present, which cannot be but injurious to me. Therefore, my Lord, do not de∣stroy that first obligation by an injury; for as ambiti∣ous as I am, that passion is incapable of exciting me to commit an unworthiness. I beseech you, Madam (said the Prince to her) do not suspect me of offering to do an injury to a person whom I adore; I will but only love you, and I promise you too, to do all I can, that I may desire nothing else; but if I cannot give bounds to my passion, my desires and my hopes, I will do all I can to obtain your permission to demand you of Cloranisbes; for if you and he be so willing, the Laws will permit me to marry you. There are

examples of this kind, and you may cease to be wife of Cloranisbes, and still become Princess of Carthage. I know not, my Lord, whether the Laws allow what you speak of (answer'd she and rise up) but I know well, honour does not allow me to hear you further. Alas! I beseech you, Madam (cry'd the Prince, of∣fering to detain her) do not make me desperate; for if you do, I shall hate Cloranisbes, I shall revenge my self of him, and be carried to the severest extremities. Consider that he minded his own contentment and not your advantage, but I require nothing of you which is not glorious unto you. No, no, my Lord (an∣swer'd she and began to go towards the Princess of Carthage, who was coming to them) all the ambition of my heart shall never cause me to do any thing a∣gainst my duty; and therefore I conjure you not to persist obstinately in a design which will never succeed to you. The Prince could not answer her, because Lysonice having joyn'd with the Princess of Carthage, did not leave her all the rest of the evening.

But Lysonice seem'd so discontented and so pensive to Pasilia and Delisia, when she was return'd home, that they did not leave her in quiet till she told them the cause of her melancholy. Whereupon, having related to them the discourse she had had with the Prince; Well, too inquisitive Friends (said she to them) do not you think I have reason to be melan∣choly? Is not my Destiny strangely severe, to expose me to unhappinesses made purposely for me, and which come under the apparences of good Fortune? When Cloranisbes married me, I was so weary of be∣ing in Exile, that I believ'd I was going to be happy. Nevertheless, I pass'd from Exile to solitude, and I found I had only chang'd my discontent. After that, I came to Court, but there I have liv'd with a conti∣nual melancholy to see that Cloranisbes whom I thought had lov'd me well, has lov'd only himself, and hinder'd me from being Princess of Carthage. However, being he is a person of merit, perhaps I should at length have resolv'd to cure my self of my ambition and pardon him, if I had not observ'd in his heart, that if he is not jealous he may be: and for my utmost unhappiness, the Prince is become a∣morous of me, and propounds to me to separate from Cloranisbes and marry me. Judge then in what a condi∣tion I am; for although I am ambitious (added she) yet certainly I have affection for Cloranisbes; and should my anger have diminisht it, I confess to you, I could not resolve to marry the Prince of Carthage. Such as marry again after the death of their hus∣bands, I can by no means fancy; judge then whether I am capable of resolving to forsake Cloranisbes to marry another. But since 'tis so (answer'd Pasilia) I see no need you have to be greatly perplex'd. I am of your mind (added Delisia.) But for my part (excepted Lysonice) I am not at all. For do not you consider that if I be rigorous to the Prince, he will banish Cloranisbes; and if I keep fair terms with him, I shall increase his passion, and excite jealousie in Cloranisbes, who perhaps will send me back into the Countrey? Cloranisbes is so good a man (an∣swer'd Pasilia) that you may always do what pleases you. Cloranisbes loves himself so highly (reply'd she) that 'tis for his own sake only that he loves me with such ardency, and so he will consider nothing but his own felicity. But what would you have him do? (said Pasilia.) I would (answer'd she) that if the Prince proposes to him to marry me, he love me so well, as to come and tell me that he will consider no∣thing but my satisfaction, and if I desire it, consent to our separation, that so I may be Princess of Carthage. Ha! Lysonice (reply'd Delisia) if Cloranisbes could part with you to the Prince, he would love you too little. But since you say (added Pasilia) you would not be the wife of two husbands, what matters it to you whether Cloranisbes consent or no to a thing which you do not desire? It is so great a matter to me (answer'd she) that I find I shall be much dissatis∣fied with him, if he be not so generous as to do what shall please me without exception. It must be con∣fess'd (said Pasilia) the sentiments of people are very different; for if I had a Lover or a Husband who were capable of parting with me to the greatest King in the world, I should hate him. I am not of your opi∣nion (answer'd Lysonice hastily) for if Cloranisbes consider only himself, I shall repine at him in my heart; and though I am resolv'd to continue his wife till death, yet I shall be so without any contentment; for I cannot endure those people who love only with respect to themselves, who consider nothing but their own pleasure, and mind nothing else. Such were the sentiments of Lysonice.

In the mean time the Prince's love augmenting from day to day, and the Princess of Carthage (who sought only to remove Cloranisbes from the Court) subtilly promoting it, she brought the matter to the utmost extremities, and took upon her to speak to Cloranisbes in behalf of the Prince, to perswade him to resign Lysonice to him. The discourse she made use of was subtle and crafty; she made semblance of pitying his unhappiness; she accus'd the Prince of in∣justice: but at last she gave him to understand that it was necessary for him to part with Lysonice. Clo∣ranisbes appear'd sufficiently surpris'd at this dis∣course; for though he well perceiv'd the Prince's love, yet he did not believe the matter would have gone so far. His greatest discontent was, for that he imagin'd Lysonice could not but have given way to the Prince to make this proposal to him. However, he knew the business could not be effected without him; because the Law requires that both the Husband and Wife equally consent to their Divorce. But this did not hinder but that his mind was extremely per∣plex'd. I know, Madam (said he at length to the Princess of Carthage) that I owe all things to the Prince, yet this does not hinder but that there are ma∣ny things which I may deny him without injustice; for, in fine, every thing which is impossible, is no part of my duty. I confess it (answer'd the Princess) but you can part with Lysonice, and consequently you ought, since the Prince cannot live without her, and you owe all things to him. I wish I had never lov'd Lysonice (reply'd he) and the Prince had married her. But, Madam, seeing the Gods have permitted that I am her husband, I shall be so till death. If the Prince will take away my life, I consent to it; he needs only chuse such a punishment as he pleases, I shall suffer it; but as for Lysonice, I will never surrender her, no, though she her self should consent to the Prince's design. Have a care what you do, Cloranis∣bes (said she to him.) I do all which I ought, Madam (answer'd he) inasmuch as I do all which I can. After this, this subtie Princess feigning to pity him, craftily confirm'd him in the resoluion which he took, that so he might exasperare the Prince against himself. Which being done, he went to his own house where the Prince had newly been, on purpose to tell Lysonice

what he had caus'd to be propos'd to Cloranisbes. 'Tis certain she very ill receiv'd him in spight of all her own ambition, and told him peremptorily, she would never be his Wife, though she much regretted that she was not. As soon as Cloranisbes enter'd, he un∣derstood Lysonice knew of the proposition which was made to him; and as soon as Lysonice saw Cloranisbes, she perceiv'd he had been spoken to about the Prince's design. So that being both sufficiently perplex'd, they remain'd some time without speaking; but at length Cloranisbes breaking the sad silence, Well, Madam (said he to her) will you be so generous as not to be offended if I desire that you continue in the en∣joyment of the unhappy Cloranisbes all your life, and if I cannot consent that you be Princess of Carthage? You are so accustom'd not to love me but for your own sake (answer'd she) that 'tis easie for me to con∣jecture what answer you would have me give you. 'Tis as easie too (reply'd he) for me to guess what you would have me say to you; but I confess it, ambitious Lysonice, my love for you is still as great as your ambition; and therefore do not think it strange if I cannot resolve to part with you to the Prince. I know I destroy both my own fortune and yours, but I know I cannot resolve to lose you. 'Tis true (added he) perhaps I endanger displeasing you by not re∣signing you, and losing your heart by desiring to retain your person; but though you should hate me, I cannot cease to love you, nor consent that the Prince be happy with my loss, and enrich himself with my own treasure. But alas! whence is it that your love is not equal to mine? if it were, you would suffer banishment, and the subversion of your fortune would not trouble you: but to speak sincerely, you lov'd the Favorite of the Prince of Carthage when you lov'd me, without confiding in the person of Cloranisbes, and so 'tis no wonder if you love the Prince better than the Favorite. I hear all which you say (an∣swer'd Lysonice coldly) as so many new signs of a self-interested love; however, to assure you that I will not marry the Prince, know, I have this day de∣priv'd him of all manner of hope. Ha! how happy am I (interrupted Cloranisbes) if you speak truth! Do not be so forward to thank me (answer'd she) for I do it more out of honour than affection; for, in fine, I confess to you, Cloranisbes, I am not satisfied with yours. You have been diffident of me, and could not resolve to tell me, that I might recover the fortune which you caus'd me to lose by your fraud. However, content your self, that I refuse an advan∣tage which would certainly have affected my heart, and do not pretend I have any obligation to you for a deed which is likely to render both of us unhappy. The worst is, the mischief has no remedy, and our strange destiny will have us prove infallibly miserable. For being you love me only for your own sake, when time shall have a little chang'd me, you will likewise be chang'd towards me; and so I shall see my self without your affection, and you, perhaps, with re∣pentance for having lov'd me. But be it how it will, I must resolve to seek my consolation in my self. If you lov'd me as well as I love you, and shall love you as long as I live (reply'd Cloranisbes) you would speak after another manner; but I am not so happy; and 'tis left only to my choice to be more or less miserable. You would certainly have been more happy (answer'd Lysonice) if you had less studied to be so.

As Cloranisbes was going to answer, one of his Friends came to inquire for him, to give him notice that the Prince of Carthage was extremely incens'd a∣gainst him, and that his love of Lysonice was so violent; that it was capable to carry him to any kind of inju∣stice. If he take away my life (answer'd he without being mov'd) he will oblige me; but to pretend to deprive me of Lysonice, is that which I will never endure. But you must know the Princess of Carthage (who design'd only to ruine Cloranisbes, and would not that her Brother should marry Lysonice) caus'd it to be told this fair person that the Prince intended to take her away by force; not doubting but this would oblige her to withdraw her self from Utica. For though she well understood she was ambitious, yet she knew too that she tender'd honour above all things. And accordingly Lysonice no sooner receiv'd this in∣formation, but shutting her self into her Closet with Pasilia and Delisia, she told them she absolutely re∣solv'd to go and return to her Father and Mother, in that fortified place which they held, without impart∣ing her purpose to any person, not even to Cloranisbes himself; And then telling them what intelligence had been given her, I shall be so secret (said she to them) in my flight, because if the Prince should violently seise upon me, all the World would believe I was the cause of it my self, and nothing but death could manifest my innocence. 'Tis the best course therefore not to venture the having need of so violent a remedy. Not, that flight and solitude are of more value to me, but I shall at least have the advantage of making it ap∣parent that I know how to over-rule my inclinations when I please. Pasilia and Delisia would have per∣swaded her to tell Cloranisbes of her purpose; but she was inflexible: No, no, (said she to them) 'tis best that he be able to say with truth that he knew not of my departure; that so the Prince may not accuse him of it. Wherefore without further delay, she preten∣ded the next morning she would go spend the day at the house of a Lady which was her friend, standing without the City: but instead of doing so, she took a by-way which led towards the place where she chose her retreat. At night a slave came to tell Cloranisbes that she would lye at her Friend's house: but Clora∣nisbes said nothing to it, though it was not her custom; and the Prince being indispos'd that day, did not go to seek her. The next morning indeed he sent a com∣plement to her to know her health; and when it was told him, she lay out of the City, he took a resolu∣tion to go visit her in the afternoon. But he was much astonisht to receive a Letter from Lysonice, in which he found these words.

Lysonice to the Prince of Carthage.

ACcuse me not Cloranisbes of my depar∣ture; for I protest to you, my Lord, he knows not that I am gone: 'tis a design which I have put in execution without imparting it to him. But I believ'd I could take no better course for your quiet and my own, than to take a person from your sight who can never render you happy, but might render you unjust. I do not pray you to pardon me, but only not to hate Clo∣ranisbes.

No sooner had the Prince read this Letter, but he was strangely transported both against Lysonice and Cloranisbes. So that as he is of a violent temper, he commanded some persons to ask Cloranisbes from himself where Lysonice was, and to secure him, if he did not tell precisely. Anherbal, who receiv'd this order, was very much perplex'd; for just as he ar∣riv'd at his house, Cloranisbes had done reading a Letter which Lysonice had written and sent to him, and was conceiv'd almost in these terms.

Lysonice to Cloranisbes.

YOu will see by my flight that I do not care to be Princess of Carthage, and you will see by all my actions that you ought to have had more confidence in my generosity. But as for affection, expect none from a person whom you have never lov'd but for your own sake only. No doubt I will always do all whatsoever ho∣nour requires me, but look for no more from me. I justifie you as much as I can to the Prince; 'tis all can be done for you by an unhappy person who will let you know the place of her sanctuary when she is at distance enough to be no longer in fear that the Prince of Carthage should violently seize upon her.

As Cloranisbes ended reading this Letter, Anherbal enter'd, and told him what order he had receiv'd from the Prince. Did I know where Lysonice is (answer'd Cloranisbes) I would not tell you; since I understand by a Letter which I just now receiv'd from her that the Prince had a design to seise upon her by force: but in truth I have no hand in her flight, and I come to learn it by a Letter which she has writ to me. Anherbal being of late become one of his intimate friends, he accordingly shew'd him Lysonice's Letter, at which he was amaz'd. Wherefore he took upon him to go tell the Prince that which he had seen, without securing Cloranisbes. But the Prince inter∣preting all that was said to him as a collusion, fell into choler against Anherbal, and forthwith sent away the Captain of his Guards to arrest Cloranisbes, who was now extremely glad to know Lysonice was no longer at Utica. However, the Prince sent after her; but being she travell'd all the day and night be∣fore, and took an unfrequented way, those whom he sent after her could not find her. Whereupon, he grew into a rage which nothing could appease, or equal; unless it were the grief of Cloranisbes, who in the midst of all those misfortunes resented more the displeasure he had in not being lov'd by Lysonice, than any of the rest.

Assoon as this fair person was got to Bostar, this generous African writ to the Prince to complain of his violence, and giving him to understand that if he us'd Cloranisbes ill, he would make his peace with the King of Massilia, and forsake his part. But on the other side, the Prince of Carthage, who intended to cause Lysonice to come back to Utica, answer'd him that Cloranisbes should never be at liberty unless Ly∣sonice return'd, and that he would not promise for his life, if he deserted his party to take that of the King of Massilia. Lysonice seeing things in this condi∣tion, remain'd resolute, and always declar'd that she would not return to Utica; notwithstanding Cyrene her Mother so represented to her, that perhaps she would be the cause of her husbands death, that she resolv'd to write to him by a secret way which was prescrib'd to her; and she writ in this manner.

Lysonice to Cloranisbes.

SEnd me word whether you had rather see me a prisoner than be so your self; if you had, I will go to Utica to deliver you; for though you love me not but for your own sake, I will act ge∣nerously for my own.

This Letter was secretly delivered to Cloranisbes, who answer'd to it in these terms.

Cloranisbes to Lysonice.

YOur liberty is a thousand times dearer to me than my own; therefore take no care to deliver me, which perhaps death will shortly do, and then you will be Mistress of your self. If my Vows be heard, you shall be Queen of Massilia, but never Princess of Carthage. And when I shall be no longer in being, remember I have never displeased you but through excess of love.

You may judge that this Letter did not oblige Ly∣sonice to change her mind, and so she did not go to Utica: but neither did the Prince of Carthage set Clo∣ranisbes at liberty. Divers persons have bestirr'd themselves in negotiating to accommodate so great a difference: but for that the Princess of Carthage has so great a power over the Prince her Brother, he is obstinate not to deliver Cloranisbes, against whom crimes of State are forg'd which he never committed, to the end the people may repine the less. Wherefore this Prince having declar'd that unless Lysonice change her mind within four months, he will put Cloranisbes to death, this fair person believing I have sufficient influence over the Princes mind, has sent one of my friends to me to desire that I would return speedily, to endeavour the calming of this great storm; and by a rare chance, the Prince, not knowing any thing of Lysonice's design, has given order to the same man, to come and command me in his name to return assoon as possible I can. But being uncertain whether I were in Sicily, or here, he pass'd through Agrigentum, where by the way he saw the generous Prince of that place.

Oh! I beseech you (said Plotina interrupting him) tell me some news of him if you know any; for the Prince of Agrigentum seem'd so worthy a man wher the History of Artemidorus was related to us, that I should be glad to know whether you have heard any thing concerning him, and whether the amiable Phi∣lonice his daughter be still among the Veiled Virgins. 'Tis certain she is there still (answer'd Amilar) and a Lady a very faithful Friend of hers whom she left in the world, regrets her continually. But as for the Prince of Agrigentum, he is married again to a person so accomplisht that nothing can be desir'd

more to her. For there lives not a handsomer per∣son in the world, and there never was any whose vertue has been more solid and more generally ac∣knowledg'd, nor whose deportment has been more uniformly prudent, nor whose goodness has been grea∣ter or more agreeable. All the lineaments of her countenance are wonderfully handsome, her eyes have as much loveliness and sweetness as the most exquisite Painters can fancy; her mouth is very graceful, the shape of her visage very noble, her complexion admi∣rably fair, her hair of a rare bright colour, her sta∣ture proper, her deportment comely, her aspect very modest, sweet, and discreet, her neck graceful, her arms pure, and her hands well shaped; and he that would represent vertue, must draw the Picture of the admirable Artelicia. All the world has ap∣prov'd the choice of the Prince of Agrigentum, whose generosity is perpetually the same. But, in fine, ami∣able Plotina, you see reason and generosity require me to take a voyage into Africa, to serve an unfortunate Friend, and to give the Prince an account of the state of affairs in Sicily. But being Love does not require it, I know not what will be done, and besides I feel I know not what kind of secret motion in my Soul, which tells me I shall not return into Africa. How∣ever, I would fain know a little better than I do all the beginning of your life. Content your self (answer'd Plotina) in knowing that you are much disfavour'd in my heart, and let me leave what is pass'd, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 that which we can have nothing to do with; but at ••resent I have a great deal of pity for Cloranisbes. I pity him as much as you (said Valeria) and Lysonice also; for had she a little less ambition, she would be perfectly amiable. She is more so than you can imagine (answer'd Amilcar) and 'tis no wonder that Clora∣nisbes is still her Lover though he be her husband, and that the Prince loves her so far as to be unjust for her. But how came it (said Plotina) that you did not love her? As I never had any great passion before I saw you, Madam (answer'd Amilcar) so I became not much more amorous than I was willing to be; and therefore having regard to my friendship with Cloranisbes, I over-rul'd my heart in spight of all Lysonice's charms, and left it for some days between the hands of Pasilia or Delisia; for to speak sincerely, I know not to which of the two I made most court∣ship; but this I know with certainty, that I have ne∣ver lov'd any so much as you: and assuredly it ought not to be much wonder'd at; for it is not so frequent to meet with extraordinary persons who can inspire great passions. Youth excites nothing but delight; beauty, nothing but desires; vertue alone, esteem and respect; great wit, admiration; eminent good∣ness, friendship: So that to frame a person who may produce at the same time delight, desires, esteem, re∣spect, admiration, friendship, and love, it is requi∣site that she be indu'd with all that I have mention'd, and together with all these, with an inexpressible pleasingness, such as you have. For, as for my part, I could sooner dispense with the want of extraordina∣ry youth, and great beauty, than that I know not what charmingness which is found in your eyes and in your wit. And, in fine, I speak boldly to the disparage∣ment of beauty, I have all my life profess'd I would have a Mistress who could please me without seeing her, with whom I might walk in the dark without te∣diousness and melancholy, and who was also fit to be an agreeable Friend, in case it should come to pass that I lov'd her no longer as a Mistress. You speak very prudently (reply'd Plotina) but to be as wise as you are (continu'd she) I think I should have done well not to countenance the affection of a stranger; for I begin to fear your departure more than consists with my quiet. Ha! charming Plotina (said he) how de∣lightful to me is this which you say, and how power∣ful to retain me eternally with you! While he was speaking thus, one brought a Letter, the superscripti∣on of which was address'd to Plotina: but having open'd it, she found that it was not intended to her, and contain'd only these four Verses.

Charming Hermilia! here at Rome, I deem'd I only as a friend had you esteem'd: But now I find your absence does discover This truth unknown before, I am your Lover.

Plotina had scarce done reading them, but Hermi∣lia enter'd, and gave her a Letter open'd; Certainly (said she to her) Octavius must needs have been mi∣staken, for he directs a Letter to me which does not sute with me. You will be confirm'd in that opinion (answer'd Plotina) by reading this which I give you, which will manifest to you, that my brother is really mistaken. Hermilia took it and read it; but as she was reading it, she blusht, and her melancholy re∣newing at that instant by the remembrance of her Bro∣ther and her Lover, the tears came into her eyes. Which nevertheless she restrain'd, and returning Plo∣tina Octavius's Letter, I am so perswaded (said she to her softly) that in the condition I am in, I am fit only to excite pity, that I cannot think I have been able to excite Love. Besides, if it were so, Octavius would be more unhappy thereby: for in truth I love my grief so much, that I believe I should hate whoso∣ever would comfort me of it. Plotina would have answer'd Hermilia if Telanus had not arriv'd, who brought Theomenes to them, and told them that at the very time he was speaking, Galerita, the Princess of the Leontines, the generous Melintha, the charming Hersilia, all the friends of Aronces and Titus too, were speaking in his favour to Porsenna; and he pro∣mis'd that the next morning he would let them know what the success was. But who is this Hersilia you speak of? (said the fair and melancholy Hermilia) What? (said Plotina looking attentively upon her) did not you take notice, the day the Queen of He∣truria came hither, of a very fair person who was with her, to whom Melintha was almost continually speaking, and who has so lovely an air? I assure you (answer'd Hermilia) I observ'd nothing, but had my mind fill'd only with my own sorrow, whilst that great Court was here. Were it but only to do something new (said Amilcar) 'tis fit to draw you the Picture of a person whom you saw and did not see. For my part (said Plotina) who am charm'd with her beauty, I shall be ravish'd to understand a little more accurately who she is: and as for me (said Valeria) seeing she is Melintha's friend, and does Aronces service, I am very curious of all that relates to her. Theomenes can better content your desire (answer'd Telanus) than any one, for he is Hersilia's intimate friend. I am rea∣dy to do what the company pleases (said Theomenes) but if the fair Hermilia has not the same curiosity, I shall speak nothing of her person, but only of her wit and vertue. 'Tis true (answer'd this illustrious Sister of Brutus) few things in the world can make me curious; but being I am conscious that it is not just to molest all the world continually with our grief,

and that when we seek not to cure it by death, we ought to over-rule it, and learn at least to live, with∣out appearing incivil and humorsome; to reproach my self of my weakness in not being able to overcome my melancholy, I will confess ingenuously, that I know not whether Hersilia is brown or fair, tall or low; and next, I will demand of you, what manner of person it is whom you esteem, and who (I under∣stand) is universally esteem'd. Know then, Madam (said Theomenes) Hersilia is of a very comely and a∣greeable stature. Her hair is the fairest brown in the World, her visage oval, her eyes large and handsome and of something a darkish blew, which renders them more sparkling and agreeable. She has a handsome mouth, pure teeth, and the air and cast of a sprightly person, of a person of condition, and of a person of the Court. Her Physiognomy is noble, there is lustre and delicateness in her beauty; she has no affect∣edness neither in her looks, nor words, nor actions; and though she has sometimes I know not what little discontented and fierce air, yet it serves rather to render her amiable than diminish her Charms. Her gracefulness is enforc'd, she dresses her self very ex∣quisitely, and especially her head to the best advantage without shewing too much or too little art therein. One thing is very peculiar to Hersilia, namely, that without appearing morose, never any other Beauty was so averse from all thoughts of Gallantry. In effect all the Court renders homage to her vertue, and has an extraordinary esteem for her. Hersilia's heart is naturally very noble, and her mind of good temper; she sees things as they are, and acts always as she ought. She is naturally magnificent too and gene∣rous, she is faithful, secret, and discreet; and though she is not the freest person in the world of her caresses, nevertheless she is always very civil. She loves few people ardently, although otherwise she is a very ge∣nerous Friend. She is much affected with merit, and carefully seeks all opportunities to serve such as are deserving. She understands handsome composures exactly, and without making ostentation of her wit, they that write Verses well cannot judge of them better than she. She is skill'd in divers Foreign Languages, she speaks very agreeably; and there is something I know not what so charming both in her person and in her mind, that she cannot be too much extoll'd. Having a considerable charge under the Queen, she has many times occasion to give proofs of her conduct, address, and judgment; but whatever occasion she meets with, she always comes off with glory; and it may be said, in brief, that Hersilia is a Lady infinitely amiable. When she does not esteem any one, she is sufficiently put to't to conceal it; and she is more ab∣solutely Mistress of her inclination than of her aver∣sion. Her piety is solid, and not like theirs, who affect a certain outside austerity which scarce ever reaches to the heart: and it may be said without un∣truth, Hersilia is so accomplisht, that no greater perfections can be desir'd in any person. Moreover, she is highly respected by the generous Artander her husband, who has an eminent Office and a very con∣siderable Government under the King, and who no doubt deserves to have such a vertuous wife as Her∣silia. For he is of an illustrious family, has an heroick mind, great judgment, and capacity to manage the most difficult affairs. He is honorable, just, and vali∣ant as any mortal can be; he has done several great and glorious actions in the Wars, which have acquir'd him a fair renown. But his valour produces neither vanity, nor pride, nor insolence in him; and no man can be found that exceeds him in modesty and pru∣dence. He has some backwardness in his first ad∣dresses; but being very civil too, his serious humor does not disoblige any; and in fine, it may be con∣cluded that if Hersilia is worthy of Artander, Artan∣der is worthy of Hersilia. All which Theomenes has spoken is so true (said Telanus) that if he be deficient in any thing, 'tis in not speaking enough of those two excellent persons. I acknowledge it (answer'd Theo∣menes) but the cause of it, is, because I am so accustom'd to the modest humor of Hersilia, who will never have any to commend her, that I dare not so much as praise her in her absence; so great a fear I have of stirring up that amiable little frowardness, which she is some∣times in railery reproacht with, and withal which so well becomes her. But I would know (said Amilcar) whether the fair Hermilia, who saw her and did not see her, the day the Queen of Hetruria came hither, has not heard that which Theomenes has spoken, and not attended to him. No (answer'd this fair Virgin) and I know now so well what a person Hersilia is, that if I still took any care for the World, I would with all my heart resemble her. You have no doubt where∣with to comfort your self without resembling her (said Plotina) but 'tis true, if you ought to cease be∣ing such as you are, you would have reason to de∣sire to be such as she is; since she is certainly a very love •• and excellent person. It needs be no wonder 〈…〉〈…〉 the generous Melintha loves her so much. Yet their humors are not alike (said Amilcar) but having both of them very prudent wits, they never clash, even in such things wherein they do not agree. The truth is (said Telanus) Melintha is much taken with the delights of solitude, which Hersilia does not care for: but this diversity of sentiments pro∣duces only an innocent contest, which occasions them to speak very agreeable things. When Hersilia (added Theomenes) is for some days at a little place of retirement, which my Sister much affects, she reproa∣ches her pleasantly for taking more pleasure, in seeing from her Windows great Boats loaden with several Countrey-commodities pass by, than in seeing some stately Horse-race. For my part (said Plotina) I should side with Hersilia in this contest against Me∣lintha: And I should help Melintha (said Valeria) to defend her self against Hersilia. For I think nothing more delightful than to see Boats afar off going to and fro upon a great River, to behold the Flocks dis∣pers'd in the Meadows, the Shepherds playing upon some rustick Instrument, and the Shepherdesses dan∣cing at the corner of a Wood. Then you would like Melintha's little house well (said Telanus) for all things there are solitary, Country-like, and agreeable. In what place is this lovely solitude? (demanded Valeria.) It is near Clusium (answer'd Theomenes) but I undertake not to describe it to you; Telanus must do that, if you desire to know what manner of place it is. I willingly consent thereto (reply'd Telanus) for I confess to you, I am extremely pleas'd with it. Tell us then precisely how it is (said Plotina) but have a care what you speak, for I ad∣vertise you, Amilcar who hears you, knows how to make the description of a handsome place ad∣mirably. I am so accustom'd (answer'd Telanus) to yield to Amilcar, that I shall not be surpris'd if I be inferiour to him in the art of making descri∣ptions. For my part (said Amilcar) I confess to you, I shall be much troubled if you surpass me. Happen

what will (said Telanus, after he had been de∣sir'd to represent the house of Melintha) I shall tell you the solitude I am to describe has something so pleasing in it, that all Palaces must yield to it. But that which is more remarkable in this matter, is, that the admirable Melintha has made so considerable an alteration in this place, that it may be said she has al∣most wholly transform'd it. The first time I was there, I could not conceive it could become agreeable, the Garden behind the house was so exceedingly narrow, and all the ground was so declining and uneven that one would have thought he walkt upon the side of a pre∣cipice. So that though the prospect of this place was very handsome, yet it was enjoy'd from so incommo∣dious a station, that this diminisht part of its delight∣fulness. Nevertheless in a very short time and with no great expence, Melintha has render'd it such as I am going to describe to you. The Court is of a largeness proportionable to the house, all which is seen of the building appears new and of a graceful plainness. There is a Hall which has a Chamber at one end and a kind of little Gallery at the other. It is open in the midst of the side towards the Garden, which two sta∣ges of stone-stairs lead into, from whence is seen a green plat terrass'd, of a very reasonable greatness, a rustical Garden beneath, which leads insensibly de∣scending into a little Grove, whose shadiness is so much the more agreeable, for that there is heard from thence the murmur of a very pleasant River which passes hard by. But to return to the stone-perron whence I have drawn your imagination, conceive, that you see from thence not only the terrass'd green-plat, the rustical Garden, and the little Grove, but above twenty miles distance, with so charming a variety of objects, that nothing is more agreeable. For beyond all that I have mention'd there is seen a delightful Ri∣ver, in which are several little green Islands embel∣lishing it in that place, between which many little Boats are seen passing to and fro. But a hundred pa∣ces from thence, this pleasant River goes toward the right hand to discharge it self into a greater, which is seen coming afar off; and being it comes winding, it is seen in several places at a great distance. So that be∣holding the water on both sides, this little corner of Land wherein many Flocks are feeding, seems almost an Island between two Rivers which make an admira∣ble shew; and beyond which are seen many handsome Villages, till the sight loses it self: and on the left hand a rustick bridge and a little house beyond, whose irregular structure contributes something to the hand∣somness of the prospect, as well as several remote Tem∣ples which are seen in divers places of the Plain. But having describ'd this pleasant Landskip to you, which is seen from all the apartments of the house, I must lead you up a curious and goodly stair-case, and cause you to enter into a Chamber, the hangings of which are blew and silver, and the Windows reach from the top to the bottom, that so the sight may be more free. Next, I must lead you into a little place in which there is nothing but chains, a little Table, two admi∣rable Pictures with guilded frames, the designs of which having some correspondence to solitude, agree∣ably fill the imagination. For in one of them is seen a very handsome woman, represented in a wild Coun∣try, wherein no living thing appears but this fair per∣son, who seeming to be driven out of the World, leans upon a Tree in a careless manner, which manifests that the light it self is no longer the object of her view, so retir'd she appears into her self. Her graceful fair hair is dishevel'd upon her shoulders, the whiteness of which cannot be surpass'd but by the complexion of this solitary fair, in whose countenance is seen so sweet a sorrow, that joy it self never caus'd any thing so a∣greeable. Her whole posture has a negligence full of sadness, which corresponds to her sentiments. As much as is seen of her body is admirable, the little clothing which appears is natural, the Landskip is done to the life, and, in fine, this piece is worthy of the excellent Painter who drew it, of the amiable place wherein it is, and of the admirable person to whom it belongs. But from this so delightful Cabinet you pass into a little Chamber, the most pleasant that ever was seen. The furniture of it is Grey, Isabella and White; there is also a very handsome solitary Landskip, the Bed stands in a little room apart: On one side of which is a large Window open from top to bottom, like all the rest, which have an Iron-rail to lean upon, of ex∣quisite workmanship; and on the other, another great Window which opens into a little Closet, painted and guilded, where there is a Tablet in which Iu∣piter is pourtray'd, and where Melintha performs her devotions to the Gods, on such days as she can∣not go to the publick Temples. But to conclude the description of this retreat of the admirable Melintha, you must know, that returning out of this little Cham∣ber and the Cabinet where the Picture of the fair Her∣mite is, you go into a Chamber, the Tapistry where∣of is silver and blew, and from thence enter into a Cabinet which is the handsomest in the World, out at a great Window of which is seen the same prospect which I describ'd to you before. The form of this Ca∣binet is square; it is neither too high nor too low roof'd, it is hung round with goodly Pictures whose frames are richly guilded, and which being of two different sizes, are plac'd in a very agreeable order. The fretwork has a very handsome piece in the midst, wherein the Painter has admirably represented sincerity, under the figure of a fair woman holding her heart in her hand. All the ornaments which en∣compass this piece are very exquisite, and all the other pictures which are seen in this Cabinet, by the design of the excellent Painter who drew them according to Melintha's order, represent several kinds of Landskips, and solitary persons inhabiting them. Such melancholy objects are seen in some of them, that they move the hearts of the Spectators; in others, so sweet a solitude, as makes the solitary inhabitant envied; and, in brief, there is so lovely a variety in all these pieces, that Nature has not more in her pro∣ductions than the admirable Painter has express'd in his works. But amongst the rest, there is a piece which hangs over a Couch, in which designing to represent several sorts of grief, he has done it so ad∣mirably, that it cannot be sufficiently commended. I forgot to tell you that on the side the door is of which is opposite to that of the Window, hangs a Looking-glass, which receiving all the objects of the prospect, gives a pleasant sight of it to one that looks not upon it. In a corner of this Cabinet a little Bay is contriv'd within the thickness of the Wall, to place Books in, where also Melintha would have a piece put, whose sight alone should excite sentiments of piety, notwith∣standing any indisposedness thereto: but this is not seen, but when one pleases. To conclude, this Ca∣binet is so handsome, so uniform and so stately, that there is no Palace in the World wherein it might not be admir'd. Thus I have shew'd you this little house, which pleases Melintha far more than a greater

and fairer, which she has caus'd to be built at Clusium. I wonder not if it pleases her (answer'd Plotina) for as you represent it, I think I should delight to see Boats, Shepherds, Shepherdesses and Flocks of Sheep out of that amiable Cabinet: especially (added Va∣leria) if there be good company. I agree with you (answer'd she) that agreeable company does no hurt; but, humor may add to the delight of the handsomest Desart in the World. But however, 'tis fit to do justice to Telanus, and confess that if he does not surpass Amilcar in descriptions, he may pretend to equal him. I beseech you (said Amilcar) do not determine things so precisely, but rather give an ambiguous judgment, so that either of us may be∣lieve he has the advantage. Be it how it will (said Theomenes) you may be both commended without our fearing to misplace our praises.

As Theomenes was speaking thus, there was heard a great noise from without the Tents, which Telanus going to see what it meant, found it was caus'd by Souldiers quarrelling about Aronces, some of them saying the Camp ought to make an insurrection to de∣liver him; others, that it behov'd always to obey Porsenna, who knew well what he had to do. Telanus would have appeas'd and accorded them, but an old Souldier addressing to him, How? my Lord (said he to him) shall we let Aronces perish without at∣tempting to deliver him, who is all our hope? No, no, it must not be; Porsenna may remember that heretofore himself was not deliver'd but by violence. We are newly told (added he) that the King speaks of putting him to death assoon as he has found Mu∣tius: but it must not be endur'd that he commit this in∣justice, and we shall serve him, in serving Aronces. Hereupon Telanus judging it might be dangerous for Aronces to have the Army shew too much ardor for him; to pacifie the incens'd Souldiers, told them he knew the Prince would shortly be cleared, and freed from his imprisonment: whereby he repressed part of their violence, and went to re-assure the fair Romans, whom the noise had alarm'd.

This evening and the next morning, the Queen of Hetruria, the Princess of the Leontines, and all the friends of Aronces made their utmost instance for him to Porsenna; but to no effect: for he was so per∣swaded Aronces and Mutius had conspir'd against him, that he could not have been more, if himself had been an ear witness of their Confederacy. And there∣fore (said he to the Princess of the Leontines) 'tis only out of regard to the formalities of justice, that Aronces is not yet dead; and assoon as Mutius is found, and they whom I have in custody shall main∣tain before him and Aronces that they were the instru∣ments of this horrid Conspiracy, which Love ex∣cited them to, nothing shall be able to hinder me from giving that great example of justice, which I owe to Posterity and my own preservation. All Aronces's Friends perceiving reasons, sentiments of nature, and prayers prevail'd nothing with this prejudic'd Prince, told him he hazarded to see Rome against him, and to cause his own Army to mutiny. If you are minded to hasten Aronces death (answer'd he) you need but speak as you do; for if my Subjects rebel for the Criminal Aronces, 'tis a sign that he is a rebel himself, that they look upon him as their head, and that the best course I can take is to punish a Parricide speedily. The friends of Aronces would have reply'd, but the cruel Tullia arriving, they could not; because the King signifi'd that he was minded to be alone with her. Yet they repin'd so loudly that Tullia heard their murmurs: but being us'd to complaints and curses, she was not mov'd at them, but made shew of not having heard them. As for Tarquin, he continu'd at his Quarter, that he might keep his Forces in their duty, whilst Tullia promoted her dismal negotiation. Titus indeed was much devoted to Aronces interest, and was continually active for him: but as for Sextus, he had nothing in his heart but love for Clelia, and was so transported with it that he thought of nothing else. For whilst all the Camp was in Alarm, Tar∣quin and Tullia were contriving to destroy Aronces, and all the Friends of this Prince in the Camp or as Rome were studying to save him, Sextus was devi∣sing to carry away Clelia; for in this confusion the Hostages were guarded with less circumspection, though Porsenna on the contrary had commanded they should be kept most carefully. In order to which, Sextus corrupted some of the Souldiers which guard∣ed Clelia, assur'd many to him of the King his Fathers, and whereas the Tents of these fair Romans were upon the bank of Tyber, he gave order to have Boats in readiness to convey her away by night. He prefix'd a day and hour to do it, and hop'd so well to carry on and accomplish his purpose, that it might be believ'd Clelia was carried away either by the Romans, or by the friends of Aronces, for fear Porsenna should treat her rigorously. Moreover, he resolv'd to send her to Cumae, because he had an intimate friendship with the Tyrant which raign'd there at that time. On the other side Amilcar going and coming continually from Rome to the Camp and from the Camp to Rome, divers consultations were held in both these places for the deliverance of Aronces; but no sure course could be found out for bringing about so just a design. Some judg'd it best to get the Prince out of Prison, that so he might afterwards justifie himself in free∣dom; but such as knew him well, believ'd that should his Guards be forc'd or corrupted, he would not have recourse to flight, for fear it should argue him to be criminal. Others thought it most expedient for the Camp and Rome to rise of a sudden, and go de∣mand Aronces of Porsenna with Arms in hand; but a Treaty having been made with this King, and Rome not being in a condition to venture a second Siege, the Senate would not have consented that the Pacification should be infring'd. Besides, the twenty fair Romans who were given in Hostage, having Lovers at Rome, they were not forward to suffer any such resolution to be taken as might bring them into danger. Some there were also who propounded to go to Tarquin's Quarter, and following Mutius's example, kill the Tyrant with the execrable Tullia: but this Propo∣sition was not approv'd. However, that something might be done, it was resolv'd that Artemidorus and Themistus, being two great Princes, should go to Porsenna the next day, to tell him a very considerable truth: for he interpreted Mutius's departure to be a flight, and it was at length discover'd to proceed only from a despair of Love. For the last conversation Mu∣tius had with Valeria made a deep impression upon him; so that being desirous to try whether, whilst she was at the Camp, he could more easily bring Publicola to be favorable to him, he went to him, and spoke to him with an air so little submissive, that it was appa∣rent he behav'd himself like the deliverer of Rome. At which Publicola being displeas'd, answer'd him with a generous sincerity which cast him into despair; for he so clearly intimated to him, that he should

not take his daughter from Herminius, that he became desperate, leaving Publicola in a great fury, and soon after departed from Rome. Whereby it was easie to judge that Love was a greater cause of his absence than any other consideration. It was therefore resolv'd that Themistus and Artemidorus should go to Porsenna the next day, and tell what they had understood from Publicola, to the end Mutius's departure might no longer pass for an evidence against Aronces. Not, that what they had to say was a convincing truth, but it was at least a favourable presumption; and being they could do no better, they did as people use to do in great misfortunes, namely, rather to do a hundred things unprofitably, than fail of doing one thing which may be beneficial.

But whilst all in Rome or the two Camps, were de∣vising to destroy or save Aronces, this unfortunate Prince indur'd the greatest torments an amorous heart which loves honour is capable of. He saw himself accus'd of a horrid crime, by a father whom he had deliver'd from a long imprisonment, and whose life he had sav'd, and by a father whom he respected still notwithstanding the injustice he did him. But that which afflicted him most, was, that the letter he re∣ceiv'd from Clelia, perswaded him either that she believ'd the accusation charg'd upon him, or else ac∣cus'd him her self of something; and to augment his grief, he saw he had lost the Letter, which might be of some ill consequence to him if it were in the hands of Porsenna: so that his affliction was more than can be imagin'd. But he did not suffer alone; for Cle∣lia's mind was more disquieted than ever any persons in the World. She lov'd Aronces more than her self; but she could not but believe, or at least fear, that he was unfaithful to her. She wisht nothing with more ardor than to hear Porsenna was appeas'd, and never∣theless she could not hear without indignation that Lysimena acted with that generous confidence which led her to speak to Porsenna whatever she believ'd might advantage Aronces, without considering that this augmented Zenocrates's jealousie: for being she knew her self innocent, she conceiv'd it would be easie for her to justifie her self at any time; and there∣fore she continued to act the same generosity in so important an occasion. Which so disgusted Clelia, that she almost wisht the prayers Lysimena made to Por∣senna would take no effect, that so Aronces might not owe his life and liberty to her. Plotina and Va∣leria being the confidents of all her sorrows, she spoke of nothing else to them when they were alone, especially at nights; for these three fair persons lay in the same place, not, but that it might be said that these twenty fair Romans were in one and the same Tent, because they had communication one with ano∣ther; but nevertheless, they had in a manner every one their own. Clelia, Valeria, and Plotina being one evening together lamenting their misfortunes, Clelia told her Friends she had still more cause to fear some greater, than they knew of; For I beheld (said she to them) or thought I beheld the virtuous Lucretia last night, and I imagin'd too I heard her voice. Be∣ing unhappy people (said Valeria) seldome have pleasing Dreams, 'tis not to be wonder'd if that dismal Idea came into your fancie. 'Tis true (added she) considering what befel her illustrious Lover, these kind of advertisements seem not altogether to be rejected; for if you remember, Lucretia appear'd to him. Tell us therefore in what manner you thought you beheld that fair but unfortunate Lady. My discontents, as you may imagine (answer'd Clelia) strangely possess my mind, so that I never sleep but out of weariness. Hereby it hapned, that it was almost break of day before I shut mine eyes. In this condition I know not whether my heaviness forc'd me to sleep, or whether I was really awake; but me thought I beheld a good great light, which never∣theless was somewhat dusky too; a moment after Lucretia appear'd to me fairer than ever I saw her, her hair was dishevell'd, she was cover'd with a large white Robe, and held a bloody Ponyard in her hand. In this posture methought I heard her voice, which was something terrifying. Flee, Clelia, flee (said she to me) but flee speedily; for I adver∣tise you that the Tyrant, who caus'd me to have re∣course to this Ponyard, has a design against your honour as he had against mine. Have recourse there∣fore to flight, and bring not your self into the necessity of being oblig'd to have recourse to death. After this, the light disappear'd, Lucretia vanish'd; but the sound of her voice has made such an impression upon my mind, that all this day I have done nothing else but think upon what I imagin'd I saw and heard, and had not so much power as to tell it you: besides, having not seen you alone, I was unwilling to speak of a thing which seems only fit to make me suspected of having a mind something weak.

Clelia had scarce done speaking this to her Friends, when one of their Guards enter'd into their Tent, with a certain hasty air which signifi'd he had some important matter to tell. I beseech you, Madam (said he to Clelia) pardon me the liberty I take of entring into your Tent; if Lucilius or Telanus had been come back from the King, I would have addressed my self to them; but being they are not here, and I can∣not tell that which I have to say, to him that com∣mands us in their absence, I address to you, to adver∣tise you that Sextus will carry you away by violence, if you do not take care to prevent it. I have not been able to learn whether he intends it this night or the next; but I know infallibly he hath laid all his contri∣vances for that purpose; several of my Companions are to be assistant to him, he that commands us is his Creature, he has Boats in readiness, and is himself to serve in this violence. Wherefore, Madam, conceiving I could never serve the Prince better than by serving you, I come to give you this intelligence. The busi∣ness is urgent (added he) and I understand the design as fully as possibly one can. But by what means came you to know it? (said Clelia much affrighted.) One of my companions, Madam, (answer'd he) who would have engag'd me in this criminal design told me of it, and I made shew of consenting to it, to the end I might give you notice of it. Valeria, Plo∣tina, and Clelia, askt this man divers other Questions, who answer'd them with so much ingenuity, that they were assur'd he did not lye. They thanked him for his generosity, and desir'd him to tell Telanus, assoon as he came from the King, that they must neces∣sarily speak with him; and in case Telanus did not return speedily, to come himself to speak with them. Well, my dear Sister (said Clelia to Plotina) the ap∣parition of the virtuous Lucretia is but too true, and am not I very unhappy in seeing my self lov'd by the most infamous of men? Was not I sufficiently op∣press'd with the misfortunes of Aronces and his infide∣lity, without being more so by mischiefs more dread∣ful to me than death? But, in fine (added she) I am not resolv'd to await this dismal adventure;

I must go from Tent to Tent to awake all my Compa∣nions, oblige them all to stay with me, till the return of Telanus, and engage them by Oath to stick to me, and rather tear me in pieces, than suffer me to be carri'd away by the infamous Sextus. If Telanus comes (said Plotina) it is absolutely necessary that he give way for us to escape; for in the condition things are, we know not who to have recourse to. For my part (said Valeria) I know not whether we should do well to violate the Laws of Nations by going to Rome though we might, or whether it would not be better to have recourse to the Princess of the Leontines. No, no, (answer'd Clelia) I will not be oblig'd to that Princess; and as things now are, I believe she would not be as serviceable to me as she is to Aron∣ces; and besides, do you think Porsenna will at pre∣sent believe any thing against a Son of Tullia? We must therefore begin to assemble all our Friends to∣gether; and so Clelia causing a maid-slave to light her, was follow'd by Valeria and Plotina through the lines of Communication which went from Tent to Tent, where they awaken'd Hermilia, Colatina, and all the rest. But after they were come together into one and the same Tent, the Soldier who discover'd the plot to Clelia, came to tell her that Lucilius and Telanus had sent notice that they would not lodge there that night, because some affairs requir'd their presence elsewhere. Wherefore Clelia interpreting this as an artifice of Sextus, who caus'd them to be retain'd, that he might the better effect his de∣sign, was in a very terrifi'd condition, and the death of Lucretia coming into her mind at the same time, she thought every moment she beheld Sextus en∣tring with his Soldiers to carry her away. All her Friends partaking of her fear, counsell'd her the best they could; but she having a great heart, No, no, my Companions (said she, beholding some of them with tears in their eyes) 'tis to no purpose to weep, we must this day shew that we are Romans, that we love honour, and that death cannot daunt us; for do not imagine (added she) that this design regards only me; all they that serve a ravisher, are ravishers themselves; and I do not question, but the infamous Sextus has promis'd you to such as are to be his instru∣ments in so criminal an action. But were it otherwise (continu'd she) I will believe that the affection you have for me, and the sense of honour would lead you to be willing to save me, and to take a resolution to make an escape from this place, where we cannot but every moment be expos'd to the insolence of the two mu∣tinous Camps, which in all probability will shortly fall foul together. Let us then make a daring and generous resolution; our Tents are upon the Bank of Tyber, and there is no way to escape but by the River. If we dye, we shall die with greater glory than Lucre∣tia, since it will be in avoiding an unhappiness, which she would not out-live. I know it will be said at Rome, that we violate the Treaty; but every thing may be lawfully done to save our honours. Nevertheless that you may not think (added she) I will cause you all to be drown'd for my preservation, and expose you to an inevitable danger, hear what course I con∣ceive fit to be taken. You know when we came out of Rome, we were adorn'd like publick Victims to be sa∣crific'd to the peace; so that we have many Jewels amongst us: let us promise all we have to the Soul∣dier who gave us this intelligence, on condition he will be serviceable to us; let us not wait for the return of Lucilius or Telanus, nor tempt them to be unfaith∣ful to the King of Hetruria, who committed us to their custody; but let us only devise how to deceive our Guards; we may easily do it, provided that Sol∣dier and some of his companions be for us; let us send to him who commands in the absence of Lucilius and Telanus, to desire permission to bathe our selves at break of day, which without doubt he will grant us; for being perhaps 'tis the night following wherein he intends to convoy me away, he will believe this will facilitate his design. But when we come to the Water side, you shall do what you see me do; ask me no more, but leave me to manage this enterprize. I require no more of you, but of what I will my self shew you an example: but above all things, to con∣tinue your selves in the generous resolution which I see you inclinable to, consider always, I conjure you, that the business is no less than to keep our selves from being under the power of the murderer of the virtuous Lucretia, that glory attends us on the other side of the Tyber, and that we shall eternally dishonour our Country, if we be so pusillanimous and weak as to incur a misfortune which we may avoid.

Clelia spoke with so much courage and eloquence, that all her companions hastned to give her their Jewels, swear not to forsake her, but to follow her example and pleasure implicitely. After this she went to speak to the trusty Souldier, and communicating her design to him, she gave him some gratuities, and promis'd him more; which done, he went to the Officer who commanded the Guard, and whose name was Minitius, to demand his permission for all these fair Virgins to go and bathe themselves in the Tyber about break of day. He made no scruple to grant this request; and gave orders to such as were to conduct them, without suspecting any thing of the design; for Rome being on the other side of the River, he could not think these Ladies would imagine it possible to get thither. Besides, being Hostages, and Sextus design in all probability unknown to them, he was on the contrary very glad of their beginning to bathe themselves in the River, inasmuch as it might prove convenient for his enterprize. But to bring it so to pass as to send such Souldiers the next day to conduct them, as were privy to this Plot, he sent others this day; the order of Military duties requiring suc∣cessive attendance of several persons. In the mean time the Souldier whom Clelia had gain'd, provided Planks, Hurdles, and Bavines; it not being possible to get either Boats or Horses: he also suborn'd some other Souldiers to assist him, with the Jewels Cle∣lia gave him, and in brief, he did all that was in his power. Now when break of day was come, these twen∣ty fair Virgins having spent the whole night without sleep, went forth under the conduct of those that were order'd to guard them. It was no lighter when they left their Tents, than just enough to discern things, and to perceive the agitation of the River through the Willows which grew upon the Bank of it in this place. The place was unfrequented, agreeable, and fit for the execution of Clelia's design. The Souldier who was of intelligence with them, hasting to bring them to the place where Tents were erected for them in the River, led them through a way beset with Willows, whose tops were interwoven together, and seem'd to make a kind of rude Canopy; and at length they arriv'd at the place where they made shew of in∣tending to bathe themselves. They who guided them stay'd at a distance out of respect, to leave them to undress themselves; and some of them too

were corrupted to do so by Clelia's Complotter. But the Ladies not thinking them remote enough, desir'd them to retire a little more back; which they did. And as soon as they saw them at a good distance, the honest Souldier who was hid behind a bush to assist them, shew'd them the Planks, Hurdles and the Bavines, which he had caus'd to be brought thither secretly, and had so well fitted that each of them could bear up a person in the Water. But when Clelia counted them, she found there was one fewer than needed; at which she being nothing abash'd, No, no, (said she) my companions, trouble not your selves who it shall be that wants something to support her in the water, my courage shall support me, and the Gods will assist me. Let us not therefore lose time (added this magnanimous Lady) the moments are pre∣cious; this valiant Souldier whom you see shall help the weakest, and I am so perswaded Heaven will be aiding to us, that I doubt not in the least but we shall all happily get to Rome. The God of Tyber sav'd Horatius when he leapt into it in his Armour; he will save us perhaps as well as him.

After this, Clelia having invok'd the God of the River, without expecting the answer of her compa∣nions, cast her self couragiously into the water, and turning towards them, If you love glory (said she to them) you will follow me; and so abandoning her self to the stream of the River, she was carried from the shore. There was no delay, but her companions instantly did the same; and the Souldier, having so handsomly ty'd some to the Planks, others to the Hurdles and Bavines which he had provided, that there was no fear of sinking, he leapt into the Water after them, and sometimes helpt one, and sometimes another: their cloaths also were of some use in this occasion to bear them up. But there hapn'd a remar∣kable accident; for as Clelia turn'd her head now and then to see whether her companions follow'd her, she found a Horse in the midst of the River, which had scap'd from one that led him to drink; whereupon this couragious Lady got hold of his Bridle, and made shift to mount upon his back. By which means advancing her self above the water, and day being much clear'd up, the Souldiers who had guarded her, were extremely amaz'd to see her and all her compa∣nions about her, whom the officious Souldier help'd forward as much as he could; for they who were not corrupted, believ'd these twenty fair Virgins were in the Tents prepar'd for them upon the River. On the side of Rome, they who perceiv'd a woman upon a Horse swimming in the middle of the River, and follow'd by others who were supported by Planks, Hurdles, or Bavins, knew not at first whether they were not men disguised in the habits of women, and whether this were not some subtle project of Tarquin: so that they were thinking to shoot Arrows at them; and had indeed done so, if Horatius and Herminius had nothappily arriv'd. For, as Lovers know their Mistresses at a greater distance than others, they were no sooner upon the Bank of the River, but they knew Clelia and Valeria. Which sight so surpris'd them, that they were thinking to cast themselves into the River, to go and meet them; but this first sentiment being pass'd, reason caus'd them to take some Boats which were there to go meet these couragious Ladies, most of whom were so weary that they receiv'd this succour with joy. In the interim the Souldiers who had guarded these fair Romans, having given the Alarm all about, the Bank of the River was in an instant beset with an innumerable multitude of Souldiers on the side of the Camp, that of the City was as much throng'd with the Inhabitants. Now because these fair Virgins were not in condition to go through the Streets, Horatius and Herminius led them to a house standing near the side of the River, where they dry'd themselves and chang'd their clothes for others which they sent for from their Parents houses. After which, they all went to the first Consul, to give an account of their escape, and to desire him to inform the Senate of it. But they were follow'd with an incredible throng of people, who by this time knowing Clelia was she that under∣took this adventurous action for the preservation of her honour, gave her a thousand praises, and ex∣toll'd her above all the Heroes of Antiquity. When Publicola beheld this fair company arrive, he was surpriz'd at it; for though the rumour of it was brought to him before, yet he did not believe what was told him. Clelia, as principal of the enterprize, went formost, and as soon as she saw Publicola, My Lord (said she to him) if that which my compani∣ons and I have done seem unreasonable to you, I con∣jure you to lay the blame only upon me, for they have done no more but followed me; and if the Senate conceive me culpable, I am ready to undergo such pu∣nishment as shall seem good to them to inflict upon me; for I dread neither pains nor death, I fear no∣thing but infamy. After this Valeria beginning to speak, inform'd Publicola of the violence intended by Sextus, and omitted nothing that might serve to justifie the action which they had done. Your fact is so glorious (answer'd Publicola, speaking to Clelia) that were it unjust, it would nevertheless deserve to be eter∣nally commended; nothing undoubtedly being more heroical, than to preserve one's honour with the hazard of death. But since you have acted for yours, you must suffer Rome to act also for hers, and therefore I enjoyn you all to stay here till the Senate have deliberated upon the action which you have done.

Then Publicola leaving them to the charge of Domi∣tia, gave order that the Senate should be extraordina∣rily assembled. In the mean time Clelius, Sulpitia, Octavius, Racilia, Flavia, Salonina, Artemidorus, Themistus, Merigenes, Aemilius, Spurius, Acrisius, Sicinius, Damon, and all the relations of these fair virgins, came to visit them, every one making a com∣plement to them according to their humor or inclina∣tion, and all extolling Clelia with a kind of contest. Ho∣ratius was extreme joyful in this occasion, and found such pleasure in the glory of his Mistress, that he had not greater when he perform'd that grand action of the Sublician Bridge. He fanci'd that Clelia's leaping into Tyber as he had done, was a happy presage to him; and it was some delight to him, to think that Cle∣lia fled from a place where Aronces was. But if his own thoughts gave him hope, the looks and words of Cle∣lia gave him none at all: but on the contrary having spoken a moment with her apart, he found her mind still firmer to her old resolution. At least, Madam, (said he to her) do not make me unhappy before the time, leave Fortune to act as she pleases, and act your self as you are minded; but do not forbid me to hope that perhaps you will one day find your self forc'd by destiny not to hate me. All humane prudence can foresee nothing, three days ago you would not have believ'd you could have attempted to cross the Tybe without a Boat, and nevertheless you have done it with an heroical magnanimity. 'Tis true (answer'd she) none can foresee their own actions; but such as are

prudent, cannot and ought not to change their senti∣ments. Nevertheless (reply'd he) 'tis frequently requisite to conform our selves to matters according to the time. As for such Wisdom (answer'd Cle∣lia) I renounce it with all my heart: that which is just once, is always so; I never cease to love that which I love; and even the infidelity and death of Aronces shall never cause my heart to change. I say more (added she) for supposing what is absolutely impossible, that I could cease to love Aronces, and have such an affection for you as you desire, you would not be the happier for it; for a pure sentiment of honour would hinder me from expressing any thing of it, and I should die a thousand times rather than do any thing that might make me liable to the reproach, that I lov'd twice in my life. But, Horatius, matters are not in these terms; and I speak to you as I do, only to put you out of all hope, and so to oblige you to be hereafter contented with my esteem and friendship. Alas! Madam (said he to her) if you could but cease to love Aronces, I should not want much of being happy: for I conceive it not possible that a heart disengaged from all passion could resist mine. Have I not told you (answer'd she) that though I should love you (which yet can never happen) you would not be the less miserable? Ha! Madam (reply'd Horatius) if you lov'd me, you would be no longer Mistress of your own sentiments, but speak after another manner. But, alas! I am not yet so happy, and perhaps never shall.

Whilst Horatius was speaking thus to Clelia, Her∣minius was conversing with Valeria; but for his un∣happiness, it was in the presence of Aemilius and Spurius. Plotina was also importun'd by Sicinius, A∣crisius, and Damon. As for Octavius, he address'd to Hermilia, who though she did not receive him rigo∣rously, yet she gave him greater cause of despair than if she had been more severe: for after divers passionate expressions which he us'd to her, To testi∣fie to you that I esteem you (answer'd Hermilia) I will discover to you my real sentiments. I confess then, that considering things according to the course of the World in general, it would be very advantagious for me if I could love you; and the illustrious and unfor∣tunate Brutus would no doubt have judg'd your af∣fection very glorious to me; for that your Birth is noble, you have wit, courage and virtue; but, gene∣rous Octavius, having lost the Prince of Pometia, whom all the world knows I did not hate, I cannot, I ought not to love any hereafter. When a Lover is lost by his own inconstancie, I conceive in process of time another may be admitted; but when a faithful Lover is lost by death, fidelity ought to be reserv'd to his ashes, and never any thing lov'd but his Memory. These, Octavius, are my true sentiments; you know in what manner I have lost an illustrious Brother and an illu∣strious Lover, help me to lament them, and I pro∣mise you all my friendship; but desire nothing more of me. Had the Gods heard my vows, I should have miscarri'd in crossing the Tyber; but though I did nothing toward saving my self, the too kind River bore me up whether I would or no. For my part (said Plotina, who overheard these last words) I assure you I neglected nothing to preserve my life, and certainly I must needs love honour and Clelia ardently, to have indanger'd my self as I did: but however, I do not wonder to see so many brave Warriors (added she) for no doubt example serves much to beget courage; at least, I know, if I had been all alone, I should not have had the power to put my self into the Tyber, without other help than a pitiful plank to which I was fastned: but when I beheld my sister courageously leap into the water, without plank or hurdle, Valeria as resolutely follow her, and Hermilia hasten to do so too, I would not be the last, but left Collatina the honour to bring up the rear. 'Tis true (answer'd that fair Virgin) I was the slowest, but I assure you, the reason which you ima∣gine, was not the cause of it, but rather for that I was not unwilling the generous Souldier who did us such good service, might be near me when I enter'd into the water. I perceive (said Plotina) neither the love of Honour nor the greatness of danger do de∣prive you of your judgment. I am less astonisht at that (said Valeria) than to see that nothing abates your joy. I assure you (answer'd Plotina agreeably) that the joy which appears this day in my words is an ha∣bitual joy, wherein my heart is not much concern'd. Whilst these fair Virgins were discoursing thus toge∣ther, Domitia told them several times, it would be best for them to betake themselves to sleep; but they had too great a desire to know what the determi∣nation of the Senate would be. And indeed it was a matter extraordinary and important enough, to make them curious and solicitous about it.

When the Senate was assembled, Publicola faith∣fully reported the business as he understood it from Clelia and her Companions; he highly commended the courage of these generous Virgins, and especially of Clelia, who attempted so daring an action. Then he added, that the people being much taken with ex∣traordinary adventures, would declare themselves for Clelia; and that as he pass'd the streets, he observ'd they approv'd what this generous Lady had done. After which, it belongs to us (saith he) to consider what we have to do, both for the good of the Commonwealth, and for our own honour; for though I have a daughter amongst those who have cer∣tainly offended Porsenna, yet I am not backward to declare, that for preserving the Publick-faith, it is requisite to remand them to him again. Some Sena∣tors less generous than Publicola, who had daughters or Kinswomen amongst these Hostages, decry'd it as cruelty to send these Virgins again under the power of an incens'd Prince, who was capable of putting his own Son to death. But Publicola answer'd, that events ought to be left to the will of the Gods, and that in all cases our duty is to be perform'd. Which advice of Publicola prevailing, the Senate ordain'd that these twenty fair Virgins should be sent back to Porsenna, to whom the true case of their escape should be manifested, thereby to oblige him to guard them more carefully: but it was however resolv'd too, that a Statue on Horse-back should be erected to Clelia in the high part of the Sacred street. Even Clelius himself though much afflicted to see Clelia re∣turn to the Camp, was of opinion that she should be re∣mitted thither. But as for Horatius and Herminius, they would not deliver their minds in this occasion, being unable to determine to say any thing that might intrench upon their honour or their love.

When the Assembly was broke up, Publicola re∣turn'd to his own house, follow'd by Horatius and Herminius; as he was entring in, he saw Amilcar amongst these fair Romans, who came from the Camp, and inform'd him that Porsenna being exasperated by Tarquin, Tullia, and Sextus, was in a high indignation at the action of Clelia, that the next day he would send Embassadors to redemand the Hostages, and that if

they were refus'd to him, he had sworn to break the Peace and destroy Rome. Amilcar added, that Por∣senna imagin'd Clelia did this action only out of fear lest she should be forc'd to tell what she knew con∣cerning the pretended Crime of Aronces, and that all things therefore deserved to be carefully examin'd. He added too, that it was a very great unhappiness for Aronces that Mutius was absent. Amilcar spoke this to Publicola in the presence of these twenty fair Virgins who with much impatience expected that the first Consul should inform them of the delibera∣tion of the Senate. But they were astonisht to hear two such different results; for Publicola first told them what honour the Senate had done to Clelia; and then (which increas'd their wonder) that it be∣hov'd them to resolve to return to the Camp the next day. At the first News Clelia cast down her eyes out of modesty; but at the second, she blusht out of indignation; nevertheless, having consider'd the Publick-interest which caus'd the Senate to act so, she recollected her self, and beginning to speak, We must obey, my Companions (said she looking upon them) and if I find my self in danger of a new un∣happiness, instead of flight I will have recourse to death, and never ingage you to follow me. Clelia spoke this with so resolute and generous an aspect, that all who beheld her, judg'd she deserv'd greater honour than the Senate had decreed to her. Hora∣tius's affection receiv'd new flames hereby; for if beauty produces love, 'tis only virtue which pre∣serves and augments it long after its production. However because Clelia was willing to avoid Hora∣tius, and perceiv'd her Companions and her self need∣ed rest, they retir'd into the several Apartments which were prepar'd for them; for, being they were to depart early the next morning, to return to the Camp, they would not separate themselves: wherefore though the house Publicola now dwelt in, was not so stately as that which formerly he so generously de∣stroy'd, nevertheless, these fair Virgins were well enough accommodated in it. But before they retir'd, Clelia inquir'd of Amilcar concerning Aronces, and understood by his answer that he had none but unwel∣come News to tell her of him; so that she withdrew with Valeria in the greatest melancholy in the world. Come (said she to her) let us go prepare our selves to dye, and perhaps to see the unfortunate Aronces put to death. After which, she went into the Cham∣ber which was provided for her, leaving Amilcar speaking to Plotina and Cesonia; but she went with so deep a sadness upon her countenance, that it ex∣cited grief in all that beheld it.

The End of the Second Book of the Fifth Part.

CLELIA: The Fifth and last Part. BOOK III.

LOVERS scarce ever forbear to speak of their passion to their Mistresses when they find op∣portunity for it; wherefore Cle∣lia was no sooner retir'd, but Amilcar seeing himself alone with Plotina and Cesonia, us'd such discourse to them as suffici∣ently manifested the sentiments of his heart. I know well (said he to Plotina) I am requir'd by reason to leave you, but for my consolation I will go pass the evening with Cesonia, that I may speak of you, and that with a person who loves you. For my part (said she to him) I am so weary by having watch'd so long and pass'd over the Tyber without a Boat, that I dare not promise you the like; for how melancholy soever all my companions are, I believe they are so sleepy, that should I desire to speak of you, I should find none to hear me. But dispense with me at this time, even for thinking on you; for sleep has the priviledge to make us forget every thing, without a crime. How∣ever (said Amilcar) permit Cesonia to tell me all which I desire to know concerning you. I consent to it (answer'd she as she was going away) but take heed your curiosity give you not more trouble than pleasure; and besides it is not incident to persons ad∣dicted to jollity to have great adventures; but all ex∣traordinary events are reserved for the melancholick. Assoon as Plotina had said this, she follow'd her com∣panions, and Amilcar went with Cesonia. When he came into the Chamber of this amiable Lady, he pray'd her she would please to relate to him all she knew of the adventures of Plotina's life. As for her birth (said he) I know it already; but that which I earnestly desire of you, is the History of her heart; that is, in one word (added he) I would know by whom Plotina has been lov'd, and whether she ever lov'd any person much. Being Plotina has permitted me to content your curiosity (answer'd Cesonia) I will do it, and the rather because I have no great num∣ber of events to relate to you, and I am well in∣form'd of all that has pass'd in Plotina's heart. And so Cesonia giving order for none to disturb her, began in these terms to speak to Amilcar, who dispos'd him∣self to hear with extraordinary attention.

The History of Plotina.

WHereas you know already how Plotina be∣liev'd her self Niece of that wise Friend of Clelius (whose name is Rutilius) and accounted his Wife, Ersilia, her Aunt; I need only tell you that my Mother's house (for my Father was deceas'd) was next to that of Rutilius, and that there was a great friend∣ship between Ersilia and she to whom I owe my life. I will not detain you with describing the manners, customs, or gallantry of Ardea, being I conceive you may easily judge there cannot but be very commenda∣ble people in the place where Plotina could become such as you see her. For it must be said to her glory, she ows none of her perfections to Rome. Besides, I remember Plotina related my adventures to you here∣tofore; and so I doubt not but she told you, our Ci∣ty was built by Danae, though some conceive it was a Son of Ulysses and Circe that founded it: but this last opinion has no other ground, but that as Ulysses was ve∣ry eloquent, and Circe well skill'd in the knowledge of all the Vertues of Herbs, so they speak more politely at Ardea than in any other City, and better understand the good or bad qualities of all Plants. I know also she told you that since the shower of gold Iupiter made use of, such women as affect glory accept nothing from a gallant in which there is gold; and that for mag∣ficence, elegancy of manners and gallantry, it exceeds all other places in Italy; and that Poetry and Pain∣ture are more in request and famous there. This being suppos'd, I am to tell you, that Plotina has always been so amiable, that assoon as she was six years old, her wit was spoken of with admiration. She us'd to speak a thousand surprising and ingenious things, and that with all the graces of childhood, and with so charming an air, that it was not possible to see her without loving her. Though I was two years elder, I could not live without seeing her; all her answers were pleasant, innocent and witty, every thing in them was natural, and she spoke nothing but of her self. She had a quick fancy and a sprightly wit, she danc'd grace∣fully even before she learnt; and whatever she did, it was becoming and pleasing. As she was one day in a Temple, where the whole History of Danae is admira∣bly represented, and beheld the golden shower falling into the Tower where Danae was inclos'd, she ask'd what the meaning of it was. Hersilia telling her that Iupiter being become amorous of Danae transform'd himself into that precious rain for her sake, that so he might get to see her; she said this invention did not please her. Because (added she) it would have been a better course, for Iupiter to have imploy'd his gold to corrupt those that guarded Danae; and then he might have appear'd with the more grace before his Mistress. Another time, observing one Cupid repre∣sented with a Torch in his hand, and another with a Bow, she was askt which of the two she lov'd best: at first she said, she lov'd neither one nor other, as all children use to do. But when she was press'd to tell which of them she thought to be the most dangerous, she answer'd immediately, I fear him that burns more than him that wounds; for I have heard a shot with an Arrow may be cur'd, but if my heart were reduc'd into ashes, I believe there would be no remedy for

it. I could tell you a hundred more pleasant things of Plotina's childhood if I would, but 'tis best not to in∣sist upon them. Yet I cannot but tell you something of a conversation which we had together when she was about twelve or thirteen years of age, and how impatient she was to be no longer treated as a child by them which discours'd with her. For my part, my dear Cesonia (said she to me one day as we return'd from a great Feast) I am so weary of being a little Girle, that I wish I could have bought the two years by which you exceed me, with the ten last of my life. I assure you (said I to her) I account your place better than mine; and in reference to years, 'tis better to be preceded than to precede others: for you will in∣fallibly be fifteen years old if you live, and I am pass'd being thirteen any longer. For my part (answer'd she with a pretty discontent.) I was a thousand times more happy when I was but six, for I did not care then in what manner I was treated. I play'd with a thousand little trifles, and provided I were not hungry, sleepy, chidden, or too much instructed to have a good carriage, I was the merriest person in the World. But now I am thirteen years of age, and to my unhappiness have my reason of seventeen years at least. I am displeas'd almost with every thing, and I see scarce any people whom I do not hate. But wherefore do you hate them? (said I to her) all the World commends you, caresses you, and speaks to you. 'Tis true (answer'd she) but all the World com∣mends, caresses, and speaks to me as to a child. So that I had rather a thousand times, be neither com∣mended nor caressed, nor that any person would speak to me. But, I beseech you (said I to her) what are really your discontents? In the first place (answer'd she) all men I meet with are nothing but Fortune∣tellers concerning me, foretelling the future, but speak∣ing not the least word of the present. All the Girls which are but sixteen years old, scarce take any notice of me at all. Assoon as I come into any place with Hersilia, they speak of giving me some edibles to em∣ploy me with, and think I would be displeas'd if I did not eat; and as for men, they, as I told you, do no∣thing but make predictions of me; though these are the most civil, for the others, minding their affairs, look upon me as a little child, to whom they know not what to say. But who are these Fortune-tellers? (said I to her, laughing, and pretending not to under∣stand her.) All men which I know and which you know (answer'd she:) yesterday Turnus, only seeing me enter into your house, cry'd, Ha! she will be a dangerous Lass one day. Periander the other day said in my presence, I would certainly be very handsome, when I became a little more fatter and taller. Ly∣castes added, I would shortly be of a handsome stature; Martius, that when I came to have my Neck longer, I would be much more charming; Livius, that assoon as I knew I was handsome, I would be infinitely more amiable; and my Mother also, speaking of me to her par∣ticular Friends, says sometimes, I shall one day be witty if I will: so that all my charms are in the future. But if these Prognostications (added she) speak true, and that I prove terrible, hereafter, unless they be dead of age before, I will make them all dye of love, and so ill treat them, that I will be fully reveng'd on them for the little care they have at present to please me. If I be not deceiv'd (said I to her) it will one day be in your power to revenge your self. Well (answer'd she hastily) do not you make Predicti∣ons of me too as well as the rest. Thereupon I laught heartily at the choler I had put Plotina into unawares; for indeed she never lov'd that kind of commendation which regarded only the time to come. You may judge by what I tell you that Plotina had a forward wit, and was already very agreeable. But in a little time she made it appear sufficiently, and most of those that had made such advantageous pre∣dictions were in a condition to speak to her only of the present time, and of the torments her beauty caus'd them to suffer.

This passage (said Amilcar interrupting her) puts me into the greatest fear in the world; for I am ready to dye out of conceit that you are going to tell me Plotina has been lov'd by many more deserving per∣sons than my self; and I am afraid too, you will inform me she has lov'd some one of my Rivals more than she loves me.

Do not fear so much as you pretend (answer'd Ce∣sonia) lest I tell you Plotina has had more worthy Lovers than your self; and for the rest, you may judge what you ought to believe of it, when I come to the end of my relation. I shall therefore proceed to tell you (added she) that the merit of Plotina soon made a great report, and she saw all those makers of predictions speak to her only of the time present. Yet it must be said to the honour of Plotina that she did not suffer her self to be dazled with the applause of the World, but with very great modesty receiv'd the first praises that were given her. And indeed she was very debonair without folly, pleasant without extravagance, young without imprudence, witty without pride, and handsome without affectation. Then it was that I began to converse with her as with a true Friend; I first intrusted little trifling secrets to her, and perceiving she us'd them discreetly, I im∣parted to her the greatest secrets I had in my heart. Whereby our friendship became so great and inti∣mate, that in speaking of us people were many times pleas'd to mention us by the name of the two Friends. At that time there were very many worthy persons at Ardea; for besides Turnus, Periander, and divers others, there were three of undoubted merit. The first was named Martius, the second Lycastes, and the third Clorantus. This last has a noble, but very sweet and civil aspect, though sometimes his air seem a little cold and careless. He has brown hair, a very hand∣some head, somewhat a long visage, a pale complexi∣on, black and small eyes, but nevertheless his looks are very ingenious, and even his silence speaks him such; for in discourse, he hears, like one who admi∣rably well understands that which is spoken to him, and who could speak more than he does. All his de∣portments are such as become a man of his quality, and his mind is perfectly fram'd for converse with the world: he loves ingenious composures and their Au∣thors; he has a melancholy aspect, and nevertheless loves all pleasures. His Soul is naturally passionate; and though the outside of his person and his mind speak him one of those faithful Lovers which the world so rarely affords, yet he is always a serious wanton, or if you will, a tolerable inconstant; for no doubt some are not such. However he maintains confident∣ly that he is faithful, because he says he never deserted any woman who gave him not cause of complaint. He is one of those who account it no infidelity to make little affections occasionally by the by, which arise in their heart during their greater passions. But this is constantly true, where he loves, he loves ardently, he minds nothing but his passion, he is very inclinable to

jealousie, he resents the least unpleasing things with a strange vehemence; and, in fine, is acquainted with the greatest delights and the extremest rigours of love. As for Martius, he was a man who lov'd very passio∣nately, was incapable of relinquishing one Mistress to love another, but whose affections could only abate by time. He was very handsome, infinitely ingenious, and endu'd with a pleasing kind of wit. And then for Lycastes, he was a very agreeable person, but he was naturally so inconstant, that it was reckon'd amongst the wonders of Love, if any one could engage him to love constantly once in his life. Being we were known to all the virtuoso's of Ardea, and there were few in the City more consider'd than Plotina, and I, we were present at all the Gallant Feasts which were made. One was made at that time in honour of Circe, who is termed Goodess in Homer, in which were represen∣ted divers of those prodigious transformations which are attributed to her, and in which Plotina appear'd so charming, that her beauty and debonarity made the discourse of all persons. That day she made two re∣markable conquests, which caus'd her to be call'd for some time after the new Circe. For she who some∣times wrought such extraordinary changes by the ver∣tue of simples whose proprieties she so admirably un∣derstood, never did any more deserving wonder. But to manifest this, you must know, that till that time Lycastes had made publick profession of being inconstant, and that Martius had formerly been ve∣ry amorous of a very fair Lady by whom he was also lov'd; yet afterwards according to the general course of the world, it was believ'd this passion was grown so temperate, that it could be call'd love no longer without doing him a favour. So that when she was dead, he appear'd very much afflicted first, but suffer'd himself to be comforted by time and his Friends; and indeed it was thought he lamented her rather like a Friend than a Lover. 'Tis true, after her death he had not appear'd amorous; yea, he seem'd very indifferent; but at length on the day of this famous Feast of Circe, Lycastes and Martius ceas'd to be what they had been before; that is, the first learnt to love constantly, and the other ceas'd to be insensible, and began to love again. But such be∣ginnings of love being usually not so discernible as to be known the first moment they attacque the heart, Lycastes and Martius did not believe they could be very amorous of Plotina, and their Friends perceiv'd it before themselves. Now Plotina being of a free and merry humor, these two Lovers were sufficiently at a loss for an occasion to give her seriously to un∣derstand they lov'd her, when they perceiv'd it: for she so handsomly put off all that they said to her, that it might seem their love was nothing but a piece of Gallantry, in which their hearts were unconcern'd. But at length they found that they lov'd ardently. For their passion began to manifest it self by jealousie: they could no longer endure one another but with trouble, they minded nothing but Plotina and how to please her. They frequented none but her, aban∣don'd all their acquaintances, and in brief had nothing but their passions in their heads. On the otherside, Plotina having always been averse to Marriage, and now unwilling to commit a criminal Gallantry, did certainly all she could to deprive these two Lovers utterly of hope: but this rigour augmented their love in stead of diminishing it. Wherefore Plotina being loth to trouble her self longer to no purpose, left them to follow their own inclinations, without being kind or favourable, or considering one more than the other. Yet one day she gave Lycastes a se∣vere check in the presence of Martius, Persander, and Lucia (who is a very amiable Lady) for she pro∣fess'd it absolutely impossible for her to love a Lover that has been inconstant. If any of those rambling Lovers (answer'd Lycastes) should become a faithful adorer of you, wherefore would you not love him, provided he have otherwise desert? Because (re∣ply'd she hastily) that which has hapned once may happen a hundred times, and nothing would be more insupportable to me than to be abandon'd by a man to whom I had given permission to love me. There∣fore, not to venture that mischief, 'tis best avoid giving it to any: for the world is so full of incon∣stant Lovers who dissemble fidelity, that it is easie to be mistaken. Plotina spoke this with an air that intimated to Lycastes, it would be a hard matter for him to win her heart. Nevertheless, he found he had so well shaken off his old inconstancy, and that he should love Plotina faithfully, that he hop'd time would mollifie her. For my part, I confess my in∣clination then led me to favour Lycastes; and though Martius was a very worthy, handsome, and agree∣able person, yet I was more concern'd for his Rival. But I perceiv'd one day Plotina was not of the same mind, but had a little more inclinati∣on for Martius than for Lycastes. However, she carefully conceal'd it; but for all her care, not only I, but Lucia, Lycastes's Kinswoman and Friend per∣ceiv'd it too. This person had formerly seem'd an intimate friend of Martius's Mistress, she saw the be∣ginning, progress, and end of this love, in which she had an interest, which I shall tell you presently. As we were both one day with Plotina, we hapned un∣wittingly to speak of the power of inclination. For my part (said Plotina) I do not believe it so powerful as 'tis reported, at least I am perswaded I never yet lov'd any thing without reason. You believe this (an∣swer'd Lucia smiling) and yet at the same time I am speaking to you, your inclination prepossesses your reason, to the disadvantage of one of my friends. Per∣haps, 'tis yours (reply'd she) which is prepossess'd. If you will let Cesonia be judge (said Lucia) I will ex∣plain my self more clearly. I assure you (said I to them both) I am very equitable. 'Tis a great vanity in you to believe your self so (answer'd Plotina) for I know nothing more difficult than to please others and ones self too, and 'tis observable that such as speak best of Justice are usually most unjust. But I beseech you, why do you accuse me of suffering my self to be prepossessed by my inclination? Is it not true (said Lucia) that I have heard you say a hundred times, you could never endure the affection of a man that has been inconstant? I confess it (answer'd she) and 'tis for that reason I am not mov'd with the merit of your Kinsman, and never shall be. But wherefore (said Lucia) will you suffer Martius more favou∣rably? I assure you (answer'd Plotina) I do not treat Martius much better than Lycastes: but if I did, I could maintain it were out of reason and not through inclination; for Martius has never been inconstant. Martius never inconstant? (re∣ply'd Lucia hastily) Ha! Plotina, you are but badly skill'd in inconstancy, if you believe as you say; for I maintain on the contrary, that that inconstancy, which Martius may be reproacht with, is more cri∣minal than that whereof Lycastes has been accus'd before he lov'd you. But I do not remember (said I

then to Lucia) I ever heard it said that Martius lov'd any person but Plotina, since the death of Lysimira, of whom he was so amorous, and who was indeed infi∣nitely amiable. 'Tis true (answer'd Lucia) but after Martius had lov'd that amiable person five or six years, and receiv'd a thousand testimonies of innocent affection from her, he came by degrees to have only so luke-warm an amity for her, that she is dead with grief, although he was not perfidious to her, but pre∣serv'd his formalities to her. Perhaps (reply'd Plo∣tina) that person as lovely as she was, had some bad humor, which caus'd the Love in Martius's heart to be extinguish'd: but though it were not so, yet I should not conclude that Martius ought to be call'd inconstant; for 'tis so ordinary to see time abate Love, that I still make a great difference between Ly∣castes and Martius. For my part (said I) I confess I term all changing, inconstancy; and 'tis a mistake not to call any inconstant but such as love several per∣sons. For is not that luke-warmness which comes after an ardent love, a kind of inconstancy? and is it not sufficient to deserve the name of inconstant, if we cease to love that which we once affected? I know not very well whether you have reason and I am mistaken (answer'd Plotina) but I know well, I do not re∣gard Martius and Lycastes alike. That's it (re∣ply'd Lucia) you are unjust in. Should you say (added she) Martius is more ingenious, deserving, and agreeable, I should be patient; but to treat Lycastes ill for inconstancy, and to suffer Martius, who ceas'd to love one of the most charming persons in the world, is a thing which I cannot approve. But Lycastes (said Plotina) has forsaken a hundred. I grant it (answer'd Lucia) but should he have forsaken a thousand, he would be less culpable than Martius who has deserted but one. For Lycastes never did more than begin to love, till now; his heart no sooner inclin'd on one side, but it was sway'd to the other by some new inclination; wherefore having promis'd scarce any thing, nor lov'd long enough to cause him∣self to be lov'd, his inconstancy seems to be free from a Crime, though it may be referr'd to levity. But as for Martius, he lov'd, divers years together, he was lov'd again, and that ardently, and possess'd her heart whom he lov'd. A thousand respects ought to have fastned the tyes of his affection; and nevertheless, without cause, reason, or pretext, his passion has ceas'd to be passionate; that which formerly delighted him no longer affects him, his Mistress is scarce his friend; and so changing his sen∣timents without any extrinsecal cause, he becomes in my opinion, the most criminal of all inconstants. But, perhaps you will except, that he was not lov'd correspondently as he lov'd; to prove what the passion of that unfortunate Beauty was, read, I be∣seech you, an Elegy, which that charming person made under feigned names, during a short absence of this Martius whom you would excuse. And that you may judge her more passionate, know, that after Martius had given a thousand testimonies of Love for several years, and receiv'd as many from that in∣comparable person, he came by degrees to have an unequal Love (if I may so speak) that is, to do things sometimes which denoted a violent passion, and sometimes others which might make him suspected of having almost an indifference in his sentiments. Yet he lov'd her all this while, and sometimes even unto fury; but after all, there were ti••es in which his passion lay hid, and wherein he was willing to find occasion to complain. During one of those intervals of his Love and his absence, the Elegy I am going to repeat to you was made.

ELEGY.

HEnce, dismal melancholy from my breast, Which hast too long my quiet dispossest. Those pangs I feel, I can no longer bear: My pleasures past but cause my present fear. And my afflicted Soul, since hope is gone, Sees and presages nought but griefs to come; Griefs, which distract me, and continue still To murder daily what they cannot kill. Love! cruel Love! the source of all my tears; Unhappy they in whom thy power appears. But happy he, in whose untroubled breast No storms of Love disturb his Halcyon rest; Not blest with pleasures, yet secure from woe, And jealousie and rage that with it go. We should not then by dear experience see, What fits of heat and cold in Love there be; How near the brink of death and dire despair, Th'imagin'd sweets of Love and pleasure are: Nor those eternal torments should we know, Which who least merits most shall undergo. 'Tis true, a sad and cold indifference Makes us behold the World with negligence; That without love there no desires can be, Without desires too, no felicitie. That even with fortune we are drunk; and cloy'd With plenty, which by surfeit is enjoy'd. But 'tis a poor and despicable grief, So light, from tears it seeks for no relief. Slight cares, which the wild notes of birds allay, And purling streams that o'er the pebbles play. But yet that jewel liberty is kept, And the lull'd Soul of too quick sense berest. The headlong passions hush'd in careless dreams, Fall from the force of their too fierce extremes. Then 'tis the pleasure of the day's our own, The glorious Sun, and all he shines upon. But yet is this a life depriv'd of love; And can the Soul a greater torment prove, Than not to love, or not belov'd to be, And all its passions circumscrib'd to see Within it self? without the joy to know The price of sighs and tears that gently flow, Of amorous regards and thousand charms That change to pleasures, griefs most fierce alarms? Ev'n sorrows have their pleasures, tears their time Of joy: Vain Fools, that think sweet love a crime. A constant love will still a vertue ••e. Then let us Daphnis still affect, though he All cool and temperate, with equal fires, Meets not my flames; my more refin'd desires Feed on those pleasures which my love inspires. Wretch that I am! but is it just my love On swifter measure than his passion move? Suffering such ills his careless heart can ne'er Resent, that heart which ought those ills to share: Whom duty binds for me alone to live, And no just cause for my complaints to give. He that a thousand solemn Oaths hath swore, He knew no bliss, but only to adore; That time and age should find him still the same, His heart for ever burning in my flame;

Nor should his passion ever know an end, Or any else to love so well pretend: Yet this ingrate my absence can support, Whilst my weak spirit makes its last effort, To bear his want; would he my sorrows weigh; Obdurate as he is, he could not stay. But judging Elismena's heart by his, He ne'er can understand her miseries. Insensible, he never feels my woe, Though yet, methinks, he cannot chuse but know The griefs I bear; careless of my complaint, Perhaps he makes a Court to some new Saint. His absence shews he must inconstant be; That day, kind powers, let me never see. Obliging fate first end my days, before I hear the perjur'd Daphnis loves no more. Away fond jealousie; he cannot prove A faithless lover to a faithful love. An amorous heart can ne'er forego its chains; Since for his sake I suffer amorous pains. Daphnis, my causless jealousie forgive. Daphnis for me, and I for him do live. Our faith shall late posterity approve, And ours shall be the measure of their love. Yet (spight of hope) suspicion and despair, By turns my hearts divided Empire share. But still those chagrins, doubts, despair, and fears, Injurious words, hard thoughts, and sighs and tears Are loves effects, and with one voice they cry, Daphnis, for thee, Daphnis, for thee I dye.

As soon as Lucia had done repeating these Verses to Plotina, Ha! Lucia (said this amiable Virgin) if you think you have hurt Martius by repeating these Verses to me, you are mistaken; for, I find them so dear and passionate, that I am perswaded he that could inspire a very excellent person with such amo∣rous sentiments, must needs be such himself, and one that knows how to love; for such Verses as these would never have been made for an indifferent. How? Plotina (cry'd Lucia) can you reason in this manner? and esteem a man, who has been capable of changing his sentiments, and having only a faint and languishing affection for a rare person whom he ar∣dently lov'd, and by whom he was always dearly af∣fected? For a person, I say, who had absolutely given him her heart, and who (as you may see by the Verses I have recited to you) had the most tender sentiments in the world for this inconstant Lover? Be it how it will (said Plotina) I cannot place a Lover who ceases to have an ardent love, in the rank of in∣constants. If you account him not in that rank (an∣swer'd Lucia) then you must reckon him amongst the perfidious; for as I conceive, 'tis perfidiousness to cease to love a person who always loves you with the same ardency. For my part (said I) I am perswaded all change may be term'd inconstancy; and though a man become not servant to another Mistress, yet if he cease to love the first without cause, he is inconstant. I know not very well (reply'd Plotina) whether accor∣ding to exact reason, that which you say be inconstan∣cy; but I know the custome of the world calls such a man as Lycastes unconstant, who has lov'd several Mistresses one after another, and sometimes several together; but such a one as Martius is not so term'd, who has only diminish'd his diligences. But would you like well (said Lucia) that Martius should cease to love, after you had married him? I should not (answer'd she) but I conceive the Lovers who cease to be such after they have married their Mistresses, are not always in fault; for indeed most women, when they are married, are negligent, refractory; and perverse towards their husbands, and many times too guilty of levity and causless jealousie. So that it is not to be wonder'd, if the husband finding them so different from what they were before marriage, change their sentiments towards them. Flatter your self, Plotina, flatter your self (said Lucia with some earnestness) 'tis the custome of all fair and young per∣sons to believe their charms will have more power than those of others; but let me tell you once more, Martius is an inconstant person, and more dangerous than Lycastes. In truth, Lucia (answer'd Plotina) I do not much fear either of them, for marriage is so much fear'd by me, that I hope that thought will help me to defend my heart against the merit of these two Rivals, and I dare say too, against any light inclinati∣on I have for Martius.

Thus you see what Plotina's sentiments were, and how she defended Martius to the disadvantage of Lycastes. In the mean time they both lov'd her ex∣treme passionately; nevertheless, they durst not de∣clare it openly to her: but without having such design, they did this office one for another, al∣though there was now as great a secret hatred be∣tween them as there had been formerly friendship. For it hapned one day that these two Lovers were in a garden amongst many other persons of Quality, and both of them by the instinct of their affections en∣deavour'd to approach to Plotina: but Lucia meet∣ing them fell into discourse with Martius, that so she might oblige Lycastes whose friend she was. On the other side a Kinswoman of Martius observing the cunning of Lucia, made as if she had some impor∣tant affair to speak to Lycastes about; so that these two Rivals were alike unhappy for more than an hour; but at length Martius quitting himself some∣thing rudely from the conversation of Lucia, came to find Plotina with whom I was walking and another of my Friends: but being the walk we were in was very narrow, Martius soon became alone with his Mistress; for I stopt to entertain that friend I men∣tion'd, though we stay'd still in the same Walk. Plo∣tina being of a very pleasant humor, at first fell to tell Martius several divertising things she had observ'd in the company. For my part (said he maliciously to her) I have seen nothing more remarkable, than Lycastes so employ'd in speaking to a friend of mine in a place where the amiable Plotina is present. But perhaps (answer'd she smiling) Lycastes does not talk to your Friend, but your Friend to Lycastes. Be it how it will (reply'd Martius) if he lov'd you as much as he would have you believe, he would be as in∣civil to the Lady who entertains him, as I was but now to Lucia who held me in discourse. But to speak truth (added he) professed inconstants, such as Lycastes, have no violent affections. But who told you Lycastes is in love with me? (demanded Plotina) I have not perceiv'd it. Being I know no person whatsoever (answer'd Martius) who does not or has not lov'd you, I suppose a man who is accustom'd to love, out of inconstancy only, cannot fail but love the most charming person in the World. And moreover, amiable Plotina (added he) the eyes of a Rival, and a constant Rival, discover things much better than those of other people. I assure you (reply'd she making as if she did not hear Martius)

I have not perceiv'd that Lycastes loves me more than the other Ladies he converses with. However (an∣swer'd Martius) I know if he does love, he will not love you very long, for it is not possible for him to love the same person any considerable time: and I remem∣ber I have heard he once writ to a Lady in the Coun∣trey to desire a private conference with her; but when the answer arriv'd, and permission to go see and speak with her in private was granted him, he had no longer any thing to say to her, because he had chang'd his sentiments towards her. Ha! Martius (cry'd Plotina, blushing, as if she had been angry it could be believ'd that any one could not love her long) that which you say can never come to pass.

I ••••'er inspire but an immortal love, And such, (if any) will Lycastes prove.

Then I am very miserable, Madam (answer'd Martius) by being out of all hope ever to be cur'd of the ill which torments me. But where had you those two Verses which denounce to me not only that I shall love you as long as I live, but always have not one but a thousand Rivals as dangerous as Lycastes? I assure you (reply'd she) they came into my mind without thinking of them, and I spoke them unawares; for I would have you know (added she, minding to turn the discourse into railery) I do not at all pretend to Poetry; but to speak truth, I could not allow you to believe that I cannot keep a heart when I have con∣quer'd it. And besides (contined she smiling) I take so little care in conquering them, that I am something jealous of my power. After this, she stood still and call'd me; so Martius could discourse with her no longer, but was oblig'd to go and entertain himself with other Ladies. By this time Lycastes, having disengag'd himself from her that talkt with him, came to us, and that so opportunely, that Plotina going to pass over a little Bridge which lay cross a Brook, gave him her hand, and so he continued leading her after∣wards. Being a person infinitely ingenious, and subtle to prejudice a Rival, I know not (said he to Plo∣tina looking upon her) whether the conversation you have had with Martius, was very divertising, but he talkt with you in a place, where what passion soever he has for you, he ought rather to have sigh'd out of grief than love; for I have been told, that the first time the fair and charming person whom he destroy'd declar'd she was very willing he should love her, it was in this very place, where perhaps he entertain'd you with the love he has for you. I know not whether Mar∣tius loves me or no (answer'd Plotina) but I know how to make my self so much respected as that none dare speak any thing to me but what I am willing to hear. What? Madam (cry'd he) can you eternally hinder such as adore you from declaring it to you? No, no, (added he) if Martius has not yet told you he loves you, he ought to have done it. But I confess to you, that to prove to you, that he knows how to love, it behov'd him to entertain you only with sad discourse in this place. I beseech you (said Plotina) tell me in what place of the World you have had opportunity to speak of Love, and have not done it▪ you, I say, who are accus'd of having made a thousand declarations of love! But, Madam (answer'd he) I have lov'd only women that did not love me; but as for Martius, he has been lov'd again, and lov'd constantly, and the abatement of his affection has caus'd the death of the person whom he lov'd so much. As for what you say (reply'd Plotina) that you have never been lov'd again, it is not much to be wonder'd at, for you do not give your Mistresses leisure to love you. Ha! As for you, amiable Plo∣tina (cry'd he) I promise to give you all the leisure you can desire; for I perceive I shall love you as long as I live. If it be so (answer'd she smiling) I shall not be much displeas'd, because it will give me occasion to revenge all those that you have deserted, and to manifest that there may be eternal rigour as well as eternal love. Plotina spoke this with a certain deri∣ding air, which sensibly afflicted Lycastes, so that he could speak to her no more all the rest of the day, because she joyn'd and continued with the rest of the company. After that time Martius and Lycastes neglected nothing which they thought fit to do, to please Plotina; yet they continu'd a civil respect one towards another, because they knew she desir'd it, and nevertheless us'd all artifices to their mutual disad∣vantage. Lycastes knowing Lucia had several Letters of Martius to his first Mistress, and from her to him, importun'd her to shew them to Plotina, as she had the Elegy before. And accordingly Lucia going to visit her one afternoon, and finding her alone, acted so cunningly that she made her curious to see the Let∣ters she pretended to have. I will shew you them (said Lucia to Plotina) but if you profit no better by them than by the Elegy which you have seen already, no doubt I shall repent of it. For is there any thing more ignoble, than after the death of a person infinite∣ly amiable, and infinitely vertuous, to see the most secret testimonies of her affection become publick through his negligence who receiv'd them? I con∣fess (said Plotina) if people could always think of being liable to this danger, they would never write any thing but what might be seen by all the World; but the mischief, at the time such obliging Letters are pen'd, they have so good an opinion of them to whom they are written, that they fear not the falling out of such a misadventure. There are some women no doubt who write all that they think, through the rea∣son you mention (answer'd Lucia) but there are o∣thers, who out of natural imprudence and the desire to have flattering and courting Letters, write not to one alone but to many men, and spend one half of their lives in writing Love-letters, and the other in recei∣ving those of their gallants. There are some too that know how to disguise their hands several ways, and others who never write in their own, that so they may deny all when they please. As for these women (said Plotina) I allow that their Letters be shewn to all the World, for certainly they are not wor∣thy to be discreetly dealt withal. But as for a vertu∣ous person, in whose heart is nothing but an innocent affection, 'tis inhumanity to publish such things of theirs as may be ill interpreted. Yet this comes to pass so frequently, that I think to refrain from writing any thing too kind, 'tis best to forbear to love; for pru∣dence is not much listened to by such as love, and di∣strust is so contrary to perfect love, that scarce any thing which is not criminal can be refus'd to a person that is lov'd. I believe also, that the more an affecti∣on is innocent, the more the Letters are obliging; for they that rely on their own innocence, write with more liberty: therefore to avoid being expos'd to such a great unhappiness, and to forbear writing, it is requisite for me (as I said before) to keep my self from loving. But that I may be confirm'd in this sentiment (added she) shew me in what manner Martius writ to Lysimira, and how Lysimira writ to Martius. I will

Madam (said Lucia) and the better to manifest to you how deceitful or inconstant men are, I will shew you Letters written at divers times, from Martius to Ly∣simira. See here then a Letter which Martius writ to Lysimira some time after she had permitted him to love her, and he had requested some slight favour of her which she refus'd him, at which he seem'd an∣gry, and left her rudely. And so Lucia read to Plo∣tina that which I am going to read to you, for I kept copies of all Martius's Letters, because they appear'd to me very amorous.

Martius to Lysimira.

I Do not defer, Madam, to acknowledge, re∣pent of, and beseech your pardon for my fault, till you reproach me for it. I have of∣fended, I confess, I am culpable, I cannot plead any thing in excuse of my capricio, but excess of love. For who am I, Madam, that I should not be contented that the divine Lysimira knows I love her, though she give me no testimony of an affection equal to my own? Have I deserv'd the other kindnesses you have had for me? would not a thousand persons of greater merit than I be satisfied with the condition you per∣mit me to enjoy? Alas! I cannot deny it: But, I beseech you Madam, be not offended with me, and add not more rigorous and cruel punishments to those I cause to my self. If ever person lov'd more tenderly, more respectfully and more ardently than I, I am willing that you refuse the pardon to me which I desire of you: but since that cannot be, grant it me, Madam, and believe I shall with eternal fidelity own the command you have laid upon me to be faithful. Yet I cannot divine wherefore you recommend∣ed it more to me the other day than at any time before; but can you divine that I am more so this day, than ever I was in my life? when you tell me your secret, I will tell you mine. But, alas! whe shall I have the joy to speak to you? I know I shall this day have the honour to see you, but in a place where I can do nothing less than en∣tertain you with my love. Pity me therefore, Madam, pity me, and imagine how great a torment it would be to you, if you were oblig'd to hide the most violent and innocent passion in the World.

I confess (said Plotina) Martius's Letter is very amorous, and 'tis hard to conceive how a man that writ in this manner, could cease to love without cause. See this other Letter (answer'd Lucia) for 'tis something more passionate than the first: and ac∣cordingly Plotina read this following.

Martius to Lysimira.

HOw I love you, Madam! what an ami∣able person you are! and from how great pains has your Letter of this morning deliver'd me! What can I do to repay you as much joy as it has given me? Tell me, Madam; for if no more but dying for your service be re∣quisite, I will not refuse it. Nothing can e∣qual the delight of being lov'd by the most ex∣cellent person of the World; and being I love you as I do, I am sometimes extremely sorry, you cannot receive a pleasure equal to mine. But I beseech you, Madam, let this pleasure ac∣company me to the grave, let Fortune never ravish it from me, but make her learn there is a felicity greater than all she can give, over which she has no power. In acknowledg∣ment of such a multiply'd goodness, Madam, there is nothing which I refuse, not even the constraining of the violent passion I have in my soul, though it be altogether innocent, if at least it be any thing displeasing to you. Let us not then afflict our selves before the time; Fortune perhaps will favour our love, and we shall not be so unhappy as you apprehend. And though we should, you know what I told you in the begin∣ning of my passion; I am not now capable of denying, that it is the most predominant of all my faculties, and is to me instead both of soul and life; Only love Martius, who will be eternally yours, in spice of all obstacles in the World; and let his great love Madam supply his want of merit: pardon him if he dares speak to you of the goodness of the divine Lysimira, he does not therefore esteem himself less unwor∣thy of it; and this confidence diminishes no∣thing of his respect, though it infinitely aug∣ments his love.

Ha! Lucia (cry'd Plotina) I will not have Marti∣us write to me; for certainly he writes too passio∣nately and too well for me; but I beseech you shew me one of Lysimira's Letters. I am going to shew something more (said Lucia) for I will let you see the Verses she made during Martius's absence, who a little while before he departed gave her a flourish∣ing Myrtle set in one of those earthen pots which are so admirably made at Rome. For using to entertain her melancholy near that Myrtle, to which she ad∣dress'd thus.

Fair Myrtle, often water'd with my tears; Fair Myrtle, witness of my griefs and fears; Upon thy wounded Bark let Daphnis see An heart more wounded than thy Bark can be. Tell him what fears my Love-sick heart have rent, What griefs I suffer'd since my Daphnis went; Tell him I feel whatever torments Love, And joyn'd with absence, strong desires can move. Then if thou canst my amorous flames express, May happy Lovers characters still bless Thy sacred Rinde; no tears be ever known To water thee, but what Heaven sheds alone.

These Verses are undoubtedly of a very passionate strain (said Plotina) but how came they to Martius's

hands? At the return of this Lover (answer'd Plo∣tina) he found the excellent Lysimira had so favoura∣bly spoken of him during his absence, that all her other Lovers were jealous of him. So that the first time that he visited her, this amiable person was at∣taqued with railery by some of the company in his presence. Which at first she put off very pleasantly; but, truth being a thing of powerful operation, she was at length constrain'd to pretend she had forgot something in her Closet, that so the disturbance of her mind might not be observ'd in her countenance. On which occasion Martius desiring to speak a few words to her, follow'd her and jesting with her, as he was going, because she could not endure the railery made to her. But as he follow'd her, he took up these Verses which she had let fall unwillingly; and so get∣ting them without her knowledge, he folded them up, and did not read them till the evening. You may imagine what joy they gave him, and the next morning he writ Lysimira the following Letter.

Martius to Lysimira.

THe jealousie of many Friends and Rivals, has no other effect, Madam, but increases my love; and my joy is great beyond expression, when I consider I possess a heart, in which so many illustrious persons esteem me happy to have a place; a heart, the most ge∣nerous and noble in the world. Ah! Madam, is not this too much for Martius? Yet I swear to you he had rather dy than be content with less, and should infallibly dye, if any other could have as much honour as he. No, Madam, that unhappiness shall never befal me, your admira∣ble Verses assure me of it, and I cannot forbear to give a thousand kisses to those favourable testimonies of the tenderness of your heart. Should I undertake to render you the most humble thanks I ow you, it would be impossible for me. I shall only tell you, or to speak better, I shall swear to you, that I will eternally love the divine Lysimira, but so as she desires and deserves to be lov'd. Moreover, to return you two Verses in stead of your own, which I account for a hun∣dred thousand, be pleas'd to know that whilst my journey lasted, I said a hundred and a hundred times.

'Tis a weak love which absence can deface; Mine is immutable by time or place.

Ha! Lucia (cri'd Plotina) I can no longer believe Martius loves me, because whatever you say, I can∣not think he has ceas'd to love Lysimira, as dead as she is. Yet you see him very pleasant in your presence (answer'd Lucia) had but he been unfaithful only to the ashes of Lysimira, the practice of vulgar Lovers might be alledg'd to excuse him. But, in fine, after a thousand Letters more obliging than those I have shew'd you, his love could insensibly abate, though he continu'd civil to her. But certainly by becoming happy he absolutely ceas'd to be a Lover; and since the loss of Lysimira, which notwithstanding he sensibly regretted, then, you see your eyes have afforded him sufficient consolation. In good earnest, Lucia (said Plotina) you are a cruel person, and I will be re∣veng'd upon Lycastes for all the mischief which you do to Martius. You will be unjust if you do so (an∣swer'd Lucia.) Believe me (reply'd Plotina smiling) injustice is something agreeable in certain occasions. However, I declare to you (added she) I will see no more of those Letters, for they would force me either to love or hate Martius, and I am resolv'd to do nei∣ther. There is no great resemblance between those two passions (added Lucia.) I grant it (answer'd Plo∣tina) but yet I feel my mind capable of both. That you may avoid both (reply'd Lucia, smiling) love the poor Lycastes, who adores you, and have only indif∣ference for Martius, who has too much merit to be hated; and too little constancy, to be lov'd. As for Lycastes (answer'd Plotina) I declare to you that I can neither love nor hate him; for he is too agreeable a person to cause hatred, and too inconstant to excite my love. If it be so (said Lucia) infallibly you will love Martius. I should be very sorry then (answer'd Plotina) for I desire to love nothing but honour, my friends, and my self. They that love themselves well (reply'd Lucia) sometimes love others too for their own sakes. I assure you (answer'd Plotina) I am per∣swaded that such as understand their own interests well, affect no person in the way of love; but as for friend∣ship, our lives would be irksome without it. 'Tis so difficult to have Friends at your age (repli'd Lucia) that you are very prone to have disguis'd Lovers, and be of the humor of those women who are not offended but with apparences, and admit of love under the name of friendship. For my part (said Plotina) I am not oblig'd to examine the hearts of my Friends so nar∣rowly, provided they tell me nothing that displeases me. But I am not gone so far yet (added she) and but hitherto I have had only acquaintances, and would not yet make choice of Friends. Nevertheless I per∣ceive my heart inclin'd to have some; and if my reason did not oppose it, I should have one already. How∣ever (said Lucia) take heed of the disguised Lovers I speak of, for there is nothing more agreeable or more dangerous than a lover that resembles a Friend. I shall endeavour to make use of your Counsels (answer'd Plotina.)

Thus you see, Amilcar, how the mind of this ami∣able Virgin stood affected towards her two Lovers. The next day after this conversation, Martius hapning to be at a Walking where Plotina was, and from which Lycastes was absent, found an opportunity to speak to her a little more openly of his love than he had done. At first Plotina rejected him with suffici∣ent rigour; No, no, Martius (said she to him) do not conceive that your merit shall hinder me from for∣bidding you to speak to me of your pretended Passion; for if you love me not, you do me an injury to tell me so; and if you do, I have such a respect for you, as not to cherish you in a fruitless hope. But, do you think, Madam (answer'd he) 'tis in your power to ex∣tinguish the passion you have excited in me, or so much as to hinder me from hoping? Love is far more capricious than you imagine (added he) it entertains hope against reason; and you attempt in vain to keep me from believing that one day you will love me, whether you will or no. Yes, Madam, the greatness of my passion, and my perseverance will infallibly molli∣fie your heart. There is much boldness in your words (reply'd Plotina:) I assure you, Madam (answer'd

he) there is more love than boldness, since I trust only in the greatness of my passion. But, Martius (said Plotina) think you I can ever love a man that could cease to love a very amiable person, by whom he was ardently lov'd? Who told you, Madam (said he) I ever ceas'd to love the charming person whom I have lost? All the World (answer'd she) and be∣sides, I gather it by my own observance; for if you had not ceas'd to love her, you would love no∣thing but your grief. Ha! Madam (cri'd Martius sighing) why will you force me to reveal a secret to you which I had resolv'd never to discover? I assure you (answer'd Plotina) I have no intention to force you to tell me any thing of private concernment. Yet you force me to it (repli'd Martius) by reproach∣ing me that I have ceas'd to love the person whom I have lost, thereby to have a pretext to forbid me to love you. Nevertheless it is certain, if I had not lov'd her beyond the grave, perhaps I should not have been your Lover. But, Madam, believe me upon my word, without obliging me to give you a particular account of things. Plotina being then sufficiently curious to know what Martius meant, treated him so fiercely, that he became constrain'd to tell her more than he was otherwise willing to do. I beseech you charming Plo∣tina (said he to her) hearken to an unhappy person who adores you. Yet I find much regret to relate what I am going to inform you of; for I must renew all my sor∣rows, and cannot avoid bringing my self into danger of being suspected of vanity and little discretion. Know then, that I was undoubtedly lov'd by Lysimira, who was one of the most amiable persons in the World; and I can swear to you, I have not ceas'd to love her a moment; 'tis true, after our affection was ratifi'd by a thousand Oaths, I chang'd my deportment towards her, because decency and her self requir'd it: but as for my heart, it continu'd immutable. Nevertheless (such was my unhappiness) Lysimira believ'd Lucia had formerly not hated me, and did not hate me still; so that by degrees she came to be possess'd with a se∣cret jealousie which destroy'd her. How? (interrupted Plotina) has Lucia, whom I know, lov'd you, and does she love you still? At present (answer'd Martius) I believe Lucia hates me, but at that time Lysimira be∣liev'd she did not, and fear'd I lov'd her, though 'tis most certain my affection to her was no more but a certain civility which a sincere man may dispense with where he thinks he is not hated. In the mean time Ly∣simira being willing to dissemble her discontent, and keep me from conversing with Lucia alone, chose ra∣ther to see her every day though she hated her, than not to see her and be in fear lest I visited her in pri∣vate; so that she became inseparable from Lucia. I will not stay to tell you, Madam, how great discontents the poor Lysimira endur'd, without communicating any thing to me (for she had a great mind, and car'd not to complain) and how great disquiets I caus'd her in∣nocently by the civility I shew'd to Lucia, who as you know, has a very commendable Wit. 'Tis sufficient to signifie to you, that Lysimira by little and little became very languishing and melancholy. At which I was much afflicted, and enquiring the cause of her, I understood her mind was as sick as her body. I entreated her, I begg'd her to let me know the cause of her discontent; but she would never tell it me. The Gods are witnesses, I omitted nothing I believ'd might please, cure or comfort her. I did one thing too of no small difficulty; for having at length understood by an intimate friend of Lysimira the true cause of her sadness, I never saw Lucia but when I could not avoid it, and I gave her all the assurances of my affection I could express. But (to her own unhappiness) she doubted the sincerity of my Oaths, and fell into a sickness which shortly af∣ter ended her days; at her death she persisted in her jealousie to her last breath, and left me written with her own hand in the Tablets which her Friend gave me after her decease, the sad words which I am going to recite to you.

I have liv'd enough Martius; since I have testifi'd to you that I lov'd you more than my life; But if I have had any power over you, use your ut∣most endeavours to marry Plotina when time shall have dry'd up your tears. She is the only person whom I can suffer to succeed me in your heart. Do not refuse me this last favour which I desire of you. And if you cannot win her affection whom I have nam'd to you, love nothing but my memory, I conjure you.

But, Martius (said Plotina) can this which you speak be true? I will let you see it, Madam, when you please (answer'd Martius sighing) I assure my self (added he) you conceive well the unfortunate Lysimi∣ra design'd principally to hinder me from loving Lu∣cia, by commanding me to use my utmost endeavours to marry you; for she did not know you intimately. But she needed not to fear it; for considering Lucia as the cause (though innocent) of Lysimira's death, I went no more to visit her after I had lost that amiable per∣son, whom I regretted with a sensibility of heart which I am not able to express. Indeed I resolv'd never to love any person more; and though she had command∣ed me to do what I could to marry you, yet I made a determination to be faithful to her ashes, spend the rest of my days with very great indifference. But (as desti∣ny is inevitable) after time had diminish'd my grief, your beauty, the charms of your mind, and a thousand agreeable qualities which all the World admires in you, dispos'd my heart to obey Lysimira; so that find∣ing my duty conjoyn'd with my inclination, I have lov'd you, and I love you both for the sake of Lysimira and your own. And judge now, charming Plotina, whe∣ther I am an unfaithful Lover; for I swear to you with all the sincerity of a man of honour, that besides your self I should never have lov'd any thing but the ashes of Lysimira; and unless Lysimira had permitted me to love you, I should have so timely oppos'd the passion I have for you, that perhaps it would not have over∣power'd my reason. Moreover, one unhappiness there befel me which afflicted me sensibly; for amidst the disorder whereinto Lysimira's death had brought my reason, I was rob'd of a Casket, in which Lysimira and I had put all that we had written to one another, be∣cause she durst not keep my Letters: and for my part, I have ever believ'd Lucia caus'd it to be stoln from me, that so I might be depriv'd of everything which should put me in remembrance of Lysimira. I express'd so great sorrow for this loss, that my intimate Friends know well that I am not an unfaithful person. Marti∣us related this with so passionate an air; and so like a man that spoke truth, that the novelty of this adven∣ture made a sufficient impression upon Plotina's mind. She call'd to mind then all that Lucia had said to her against Martius, and in favour of Lycastes; so that not doubting but that it proceeded from the secret inclination she always had for Martius, Plotina became a little less severe to this Lover. Nevertheless she did not permit him to love her, but yet did not so abso∣lutely forbid him as to make him despair of obtaining her permission one day. And accordingly he us'd

so much care to please Plotina, that she suffer'd him sometimes to tell her something of the sentiments he had for her, which yet was always in such a manner as engag'd her to nothing; for being of a merry hu∣mor, she easily evades all difficulties. Now after her conversation with Martius, Lucia became wholly out of her favour; and whereas she conceal'd nothing from me which befel him, she told me all she had learnt from Martius, and I perceiv'd by the air with which she spoke, that this Lover was happier than he thought. Not that Plotina had a great passion in her heart, but he had always the advantage to be better thought of than any of his Rivals: and therefore she told me he was her first Friend. In the mean time Ly∣castes was very unhappy, and if Lucia had not com∣forted him, and continually encourag'd him with hope, I believe he would have cur'd himself. But this per∣son designing to serve Lycastes, chiefly that she might prejudice Martius, omitted nothing to bring her purpose to pass; for though Plotina lov'd her no lon∣ger, yet out of prudence she continu'd to visit her. Martius became more chearful as he became more happy; so that he took care every day only to give Plotina new divertisements. Nevertheless, he was sometimes discontented to see he made no more pro∣gress in the heart of this fair person: but the unhap∣piness of Lycastes was a very efficacious consolation to him. About this time divers pleasant things fell out; but because I do not love long narrations, I will shor∣ten this as much as I can. Yet, I must not omit to tell you, that Plotina and Martius having laid a Wager, my Friend lost, and gave Martius a very prety Seal, which he receiv'd with joy; but how careful soever he was to keep it, he dropt it once as he was walking in a Meadow with some Ladies; but it was his happi∣ness that I found it again and restor'd it to him. Some days after he lost the Writing-Tablets which I gave him, and which had been Plotina's; but he was so happy as that Plotina found them and return'd them to him; but she sent him these Verses with them which had reference to a conversation they had toge∣ther the day before, in which Plotina maintain'd that a lost friendship might be reviv'd, but never a lost Love for the same person. The Verses were these,

'Tis true, good fortune is your constant friend, And what you lose, still back again doth send. Howe'er 'tis fit henceforth more care you show; Remember that Plotina told you so. For if an Heart in Love's Realm goes astray, Poor Heart, 'tis lost for ever and a day.

Martius answer'd to this gallantly, with very much wit; but because I do not well remember either his Verses or his Letter, I will not attempt to repeat them to you. Shortly after, being these Verses were not made any secret, they made Lycastes so jealous, that he quarcell'd with Martius; and that in so high a degree, that it came to a Duel. So they fought, and were both wounded; Martius, but slightly; but Lycastes so dangerously, that it was presently judg'd he would die. Whereupon, though he had been the Challenger, Martius was forc'd to flee from Ardea, and that with∣out bidding adieu to Plotina, who would not grant him a private conference. So that he was fain to be conten∣ted with writing to her, and receiving only an An∣swer of some Lines. Some days after his depar∣ture, Lycastes dy'd without being lamented by any of his Mistresses excepting Plotina, who piti'd him, and was very sorry he dy'd, chiefly because his death banisht Martius. During his absence, he writ very diligently to Plotina: but being Lucia knew that in love, absence is the fittest time to prejudice a Lover, especi∣ally when it is long, and the Mistress is very young, and loves mirth and pleasures, she did not despair of being able at length to ruine Martius in the heart of Plo∣tina. Now it hapned that a Brother of hers return∣ing from a long Voyage, and having seen Martius for some time in the place which he chose for his re∣treat, she oblig'd him to gratifie her by committing a wickedness. He was young, and of no very good nature; he did not love Martius neither, he delighted to cause disturbances, he did not hate lying, and had lov'd Plotina a little from his Childhood: Wherefore Lucia having plotted with him what he should say concerning Martius, he came to make me his first visit; and being told I sate for my picture that day to give it to Plotina, he came to the place where I was; but because it was at the house of no ordinary Painter, and the Conver∣sation which was made there chang'd Plotina's mind toward Martius, I must tell you something concern∣ing that excellent man.

His reputation (said Amilcar) has no doubt ar∣riv'd at me; for if I am not deceiv'd, he is a man that makes pictures in black and white Crayon, and in little, and his name is Nelanthus. 'Tis the very same (answer'd Cesonia.) But is it possible for such pictures (said Amil∣car) to be as like & as lively as those that are drawn in colours? I assure you (answer'd Cesonia) a Looking-glass does not more exactly represent those it reflects, than the Crayons of this excellent man; for he dives in∣to the very hearts of people, to animate their pictures. He makes their minds and humors visible, he expresses even the least motions of their souls in their eyes, the smallest observable Action does not escape him; he pre∣serves too the perfect resemblance of the cloathing, with his black and white he makes brown hair distin∣guishable from fair, lively colors from pale complexi∣ons; and, in fine, all his portraits are inimitable: he knows so well how to dispose light and shadows, and so perfectly represents the air and life with his Pencils, that all the skilful in Painture are amaz'd at his work. The heads he makes are so round (or rising) that the eyes are mistaken in them, and they are drawn with a certain softness which so admirably imitates Nature, that he cannot be sufficiently commended. As for his person, Nelanthus is tall, well proportioned, and of a good presence; he speaks well of every thing, he de∣lights those he draws with the variety of his discourse; he loves ingenuity extreamly, and has written the pre∣cepts of his Art very commendably. Moreover, he makes very agreeable and exquisite Verses, when he draws a person that pleases him, and whom he would commend; but which is strange, at the same time he makes his admirable Crayons, which deserve to be ad∣mir'd by all the world, he talks with the same jollity and freedom of mind, as if he had nothing to do but to divert the company; and nevertheless there is nothing more handsom and exact than that which he is doing. And therefore he has drawn all the persons of high quality, illustrious and learned in Italy. And this is the man at whose house I was one day with Plotina to sit for my picture, when Lucia's Brother I told you of came to find me. Being it is an usual custom to make questions to a man who comes from a long voyage, I set my self to enquire divers things of Celius (for so is Lucia's Brother call'd) but Plotina having a secret de∣sign,

made mockery of my demands, and counsell'd Celius not to answer me at all; or if he did, not to tell me the truth. For indeed (said she to him) me thinks there is nothing more troublesome than to be oblig'd to give an account of your Travels, to every one that you meet. For is there any thing more tedious than to meet such people as desire to know even the least Cir∣cumstances of the Country which you have seen, who expect you should know the difference between the Pismires of Egypt (so fam'd for bigness) and the Pismires of Italy, and who raising questions upon questions know not wherefore they would know that which they enquire of. But for my part, who care neither for the Elephants of Asia, the Pismires of Egypt, nor the Crocodiles of Nilus, I will only ask Celius whether the women of Italy are as lovely as those he has seen elsewhere; and whether the honest men of this Country do not equal those of other. Be∣ing to speak to the two most charming persons in the world (answer'd Celius) I have not liberty to say there are any elsewhere that equal them; but if I were to speak in another place, having first excepted you; I would freely acknowledge that the Greek Ladies have something very attractive, and that their glances are so amiable, that his heart cannot see them much without loving them, unless the heart be otherwise pre-engag'd. Then you have lov'd some Greek beauty? (reply'd I.) Having been so long absent (answer'd he) 'tis easie to imagine that I cannot but have lov'd in some place of the world; for certainly people be∣come amorous more easily in other Countries than in their own; for such as are absent, are always free from business; and idleness is a great preparative to love. Yet I know some Absents (reply'd I looking up∣on Plotina) who I dare swear are not amorous in the place of their banishment. In truth (said she, blushing) that is not to be spoken so affirmatively; for few know how to deport themselves in absence as they ought. And yet I know nothing more obliging than to do as I mean. But to speak truth, I do not find many persons but who accustom themselves to dispense with seeing such as they love best. Which nevertheless is that which would displease me most of any thing in the world (added she) for as many as I esteem, I am con∣fident time could not accustom me to want patiently the sight of a person whom I lov'd much, but I should be always more sad and carelesly dress'd, desire his pre∣sence every moment, have no delight in those very pla∣ces where others find most, and every day would en∣crease my melancholy. For all this, we usually see, two days after a Lover is out of his Mistress's sight, he is comforted, he decks himself as formerly, he walks, converses, diverts himself, every day less remembers the person he loves, and is no longer afflicted than while he is writing to her. I confess (answer'd Celius) most men do thus; but you must confess too that most women comfort themselves as speedily as men. I con∣fess it sincerely (said Plotina) but according to the hu∣mor I am of, if I were so unhappy as to love one of those contented or comforted Absents (if I may so speak) and knew it, I should so well comfort my self with his loss, that perhaps I should in time render him incapable of Consolation; for most of such absent per∣sons speak at their return, as if they had been all the while the most miserable men in the world. 'Tis true (said Nelanthus then continuing his work too) most part of Travellers are great Lyars; for one day I saw an absent Lover who oblig'd me to copy in little, a great picture of his Mistress whom he left at Volaterra, whence he was. And being he took some pleasure in seeing me work, he came very frequently to visit me; and I remember one day among the rest, I beheld him very merry. He related sundry divertisements to me, at which he had been present in the preceeding days; he sung, he made pleasant Verses upon a picture which I had drawn, as I did also in my turn, and feign'd my self an African to divert him and my self: after which, he remembring it was the day on which to write to Volaterra, he ask'd me what he should write about. When he had half done his Letter, one came to seek him to go to a walking appointment; whereupon he left his Letter half finisht, and went to walk with certain Ladies, without minding the finishing of his Letter, though he could not have the like op∣portunity till four days after. When he was gone I took the Letter which he had begun, and withal, I con∣fess I read it. But I was surpriz'd to find that he was writing to his Mistress, as the most sad, melancholy and afflicted man in the world by reason of his absence. For he told her, he avoided the world, took pleasure in no∣thing, and led the most irksom life that ever was. And which was rare, at his return from the walk he came to my house again, and without thinking of his Letter, desir'd me to lay aside the picture I had begun, and the next morning to begin that of one of the Ladies he had been walking with that afternoon. And there∣fore ever since, I have not given much credit to the Letters of absent persons. For my part (said Ce∣lius) I never yet saw an absent person long melan∣choly. Yet I know one (answer'd I) whom you cannot have seen very chearful; for being he is ba∣nisht about an unhappy affair, I imagine you must have found him sad. I perceive (reply'd Celius) you mean Martius; but since they report (added he maliciously) his heart is a Conquest which the amia∣ble Plotina has rejected, I shall not fear to say that I have seen a fair person in the place where he is who boasts of being greatly lov'd by him. I say, who boasts, because she is a woman, that easily enough publishes the Conquests which she makes. They who boast so easily of taking hearts (said Plotina blushing) seem not to understand the art of conquering them. Be it how it will (answer'd he) she shew'd some very pleasant Let∣ters, and I stole one from her without her perceiving it. Martius writes so well (reply'd Plotina) that I have a great curiosity to see some of his Letters, especially concerning love, for I have not seen any. Celius seeing Plotina's mind so dispos'd as he desir'd, shew'd her accordingly a Love-Letter of Martius which Lucia had given him, for she had a hundred in her keeping which had no names to them. So that Plotina know∣ing Martius's his hand and stile, believ'd he was inconstant, and did not suspect Lucia of this guile of Clelius. Wherefore being of quick resentment, and high-minded, she regretted this adventure more than you can imagine. But she resented it with in∣dignation; and in stead of complaining to Martius of his inconstancy, she took a resolution to do all she could to drive him out of her heart. And the next day she answer'd only in these few words to a very ob∣liging Letter he had writ to her.

Plotina to Martius.

THey who divert themselves very well in the places wherein they reside, need not seek pleasures elsewhere. Therefore for your own conveniency and mine, forbear to give your self the trouble of writing to me any more; but for∣get not, I conjure you, that I told you heretofore,

That when an heart in love's Realm goes astray, That heart is lost for ever and a day.

You may judge how extreamly this Letter sur∣priz'd Martius, who was really very faithful. Not but that there was a fair person in the place where he resided, who gave pretext to the lie of Celius; for she was one of those gossiping women who have a thousand little inventions to force virtuous men to say more to them than they would, and than they think. Martius nevertheless writ several times again to Plo∣tina, but she answer'd him no more. And therefore I often told her she was unjust to condemn Martius upon the bare report of a man who was a kind of Lover, and who besides was Brother to Lucia, who sought only to prejudice Martius. I believe perhaps more than you (answer'd Plotina) Martius is not so culpable, as I make semblance to believe: but to speak truth, being I should be loth to have a great passion in my soul, now my reason is a little stronger than it was, I seek my self to accuse Martius, and to improve my anger. I thought heretofore (continued she blushing) it was possible to be lov'd by a virtu∣ous man without loving him more than was conveni∣ent; but I have now undeceiv'd my self, and I find that unless I take care I should come perhaps to love Mar∣tius more than he lov'd me. Therefore to avoid so great an unhappiness, I conjure you never to tell me any thing that may serve to justifie Martius. He is absent, I may suspect him of inconstancie, I am sensible of my honour, I love liberty and joy; so that there needs not much more to cure me. Plotina spoke this with a certain fierce and angry air, which made me be∣lieve she would have more difficulty to drive Mar∣tius out of her heart than she thought. However, I did as she desir'd, and spoke no more to her concerning Martius.

After this, many alterations hapned in Plotina's fortune (which I will not detain you with relating) both by reason of his absence whose Daughter she be∣liev'd her self, and by the death of her whom she took to be her Mother. But at length, when I chang'd my condition, Plotina came to live with me, a little before Tarquin came to besiege Ardea. This adventure so a∣maz'd our City, that I cannot represent to you how great a terror there was at first amongst the people. But for that the inhabitants of Ardea are very coura∣gious, they soon took heart again, and resolv'd to make a stout defence. As things were in this posture, Martius making use of this occasion, and knowing an attempt was to be made to bring a supply into the Ci∣ty, he put himself in the head of those that guarded it, and did such brave exploits, that it may be said 'twas he alone that procur'd the entrance of the Convoy into Ardea. Assoon as he came thither, he went to the Go∣vernors of the City, and with much eloquence and boldness told them he was come to desire to die for his Country. This Action seem'd so noble, that in spight of Lycastes Relations, Martius had liberty to stay in Ardea, where there was great need of such per∣sons as he. Whereupon he addressed again to Plotina, but found not such reception as formerly. At that time Horatius had brought Clelia to Ardea, and all the world was so charm'd with her beauty and virtue, that though she was very melancholy, she caus'd her self to be ador'd. Plotina and I were the two persons to whom she testifi'd most goodness, she made us privy to all her unhappiness, and we promis'd to serve her in every thing we could, though Horatius guarded her very carefully. Martius in the mean time was in de∣spair, because he could not regain Plotina's heart, though he sufficiently manifested his innocency. For Celius himself, who was not over-valiant, fearing to be treated like Lycastes, and being at feud with his Sister, justifi'd him whom he had accus'd; for his love for Plotina was one of those young peoples affections who believe their honour lost unless they counterfeit them∣selves Lovers. Nevertheless though Plotina perceiv'd well enough that Martius was innocent, her heart was not affected towards him as it had been. But wherefore, Madam, (said he to her one day) do you not restore me that beginning of affection you had for me before? Be∣cause I will not, and cannot (answer'd she.) As for my esteem, I give it you entire again; but that kind of af∣fection full of I know not what disquieting tenderness, I cannot recal into my heart if I would. Anger expell'd it thence, and my reason being become more strong, will hinder it from returning. Ah! unjust person that you are! (cry'd Martius) you cause me to undergo the most cruel adventure that ever was, and Lysimira's death was not more grievous to me. She dy'd loving me, she commanded me to love you, she took nothing from me; I cannot but commend her constancy, her memory is still dear to me: but as for you, I lose you without any fault of mine. I see you more ami∣able than ever, but I see you without hope of being lov'd. Yet if I had never had hope, I should be pati∣ent; but you have confess'd your self, you have had some kindness for me. I confess it again (answer'd Plo∣tina) and if I had had less, perhaps I should have had it still; but to speak truth, after I found my heart so near engag'd that I should have been no longer Mistress of it, if I had continu'd but a little longer to love you, I am beholding to my anger which has cur'd me. But, Madam, that anger was ill grounded (reply'd he.) But, Martius, (excepted she) we are not bound to love all those that have not betray'd us. 'Tis true (an∣swer'd he) but I conceive they that have begun to love any person, ought always to love him. If I had promis'd you so (reply'd Plotina) I would have kept my word; but I never acknowledg'd to you that I lov'd you till now I lov'd you no longer, and resolve not to do so. Ha! Madam (cry'd he) you carry your cruelty too far, and I believe never any adventure was like mine. In good earnest (said Plotina) nothing prejudices you in my heart but your merit, and the tenderness which I have had for you: and I confess to you ingenuously, you are the only man I have seen whom I have judg'd worthy of my affection. But I assure you at the same time, I was so much asham'd to understand my own weakness, when I believ'd you lov'd another, that I am not resolv'd to return ever into the like condition. But in acknowledgment of the affection you have had for me as far as I can, I assure

you also that I am resolv'd to defend my heart as long as I live, & therefore never to marry, for to marry and not love those we marry, is in my judgment the most foolish and mischievous thing in the world; and to as∣sure ones self of the affection of any one, is the greatest rashness possible. Therefore Liberty is the safest course; and if you believe me, my example will be of use to you. Besides, 'tis very just that you be faithful to the Ashes of Lysimira. Alas! (answer'd Martius) 'tis easie for an indifferent person to advise indiffe∣rence. But how comes it that having not hated me be∣fore, you hate me now? If I hated you (reply'd she) I could love you again; but, Martius, I esteem you, and I can have a certain solid friendship for you, which may engage my mind, but not much more my heart. Ah! Madam, I desire not that friendship (answer'd Martius) and I like hatred a thousand times bet∣ter. 'Tis in vain that you would be hated (reply'd Plotina) for I esteem you too much. How? Madam, (said he hastily) is it an equal impossibility for me to obtain your hatred and your love? Yes, (answer'd Plotina) and as I love my self too much to love you, I esteem you too much to hate you. But to discover the bottom of my heart to you, know, I have the greatest Obligation to you in the world, for that you will be the cause that I shall without difficulty resist the affection of all those who perhaps may hereafter have a design to please me; for after the danger whereto you have expos'd my Liberty, I shall pro∣vide so timely for it, that it will be no more in hazard. What? Madam, (cry'd the afflicted Martius) will you deprive me of hope for ever? Ah! Madam, (added he) you do not know your self well, and perhaps your heart will do me justice even against your will. No, no, Martius, (answer'd she with a very serious air) you will never see me engag'd in an affection of that nature; I love joy, quiet and glory, and I will preserve them as long as I live. After this, say no more to me, for I shall not answer you. Martius would have disobey'd her, but she hindred him from speaking; and from thenceforward so carefully avoided to give him occasion to entertain her apart, that he could not find any. He knew well she spoke her mind, and when she shun'd him, she told him smilingly that she fear'd him; so that he was an hundred times more mi∣serable. For it was true, that at that time Plotina more countenanced Damon, Sicinius and Acrisius, who were become amorous of her, though she neither lov'd nor esteem'd them, than she did Martius, for whom she had a very great esteem. And this was matter of no small joy to Lucia. But wherefore do you not shun Acrisius? (said I to her one day.) Be∣cause he is too great a talker (answer'd she) and so I cannot fear that he will ever please me. Why then do not you decline Sicinius? (reply'd I.) Because he speaks so little (added she) that I cannot apprehend he is likely to perswade me; and as for Damon, I have as little reason to fear that he will cause me to change my sentiments towards him. But how comes it (said I) that you heretofore so much resisted those that en∣deavour'd to divert you from following the inclina∣tion you had for Martius, and now you have more reason to love him, you love him no longer? Because at that time (answer'd she) my inclination was strong, and my reason weak; but anger having cur'd me of my pre-conceiv'd opinion, I have taken a wise resolu∣tion to spend all my life in liberty. I will indeed en∣tertain a certain free friendship (added she) which shall not perplex, but divert me no less than love: but as for great affections, I will not admit of any at all, for they cannot be entertain'd without disquiet. The way you intend to take (said I to her) is perhaps as dangerous as that you would avoid: for many of those friendships of gallantry approach very easily to wantonness, if heed be not taken to them. You shall see (said she) I know how to avoid so dangerous an extream, and understand better than you think, the bounds of all the several sorts of friendship that can be had. But wherefore have you not one of these kinds (said I) for the poor Mortius, for whom I now intercede? Ah! Cesonia, (answer'd she smiling) do you not know there is a Proverb which says,

That in the Seas of love, on the same shelf, No dextrous Saylor 'twice ere splits himself?

You speak so little seriously (reply'd I) that I care not to speak any more to you. In good earnest (an∣swer'd she) I declare clearly what I think, and pro∣fess that I will have no kind of affection as long as I live, which may disturb my quiet. When I began to have an inclination for Martius, I was so young that I wanted strength to oppose it, but at present I am as∣sur'd I shall defend my heart better. For, in fine, I am so resolv'd to love my self, and consequently to love quiet, liberty and glory, (as I said at another time) that I will never love any of those people who cannot be lov'd without hazarding those three things which undoubtedly are the most agreeable in the world. But could not you marry Martius? (said I.) If I would marry any one (answer'd she) I confess Martius might oblige me thereto; but, Cesonia, I have so great an a∣version from marriage, that I cannot consider him as one that is to be my husband: and I am so resolv'd ne∣ver to marry, that I believe nothing can make me change my sentiments. For I judge nothing better, than to resolve to live free; and when I consider all the con∣sequences, which almost infallibly attend a wedded life, they make me to tremble. Not but that I conceive there may be some marriage happy; but, Cesonia, where shall we find two persons, who have wit, constancy, good∣ness enough one for another, and a sufficient resem∣blance of natures to live always well together? Some there may be, but they are few; and I do not think my self fortunate enough to meet with so great a feli∣city. 'Tis therefore more easie for me to take a resolu∣tion to live in liberty. As she was speaking this, by a strange chance, all her Lovers came one after another to see me, and were together in my Chamber. So that Plotina being in her jolly humor, told me smilingly, that she had a desire to undeceive all persons, and make a publick Declaration of her sentiments. And there∣upon in a very delightful way of raillery, she told them all she had absolutely resolv'd not to love any person much, and never to marry at all; and that the most which could be hop'd from her, was to please her, to obtain her esteem, and to have some part in a kind of calm friendship which she was resolv'd to have as long as she liv'd. For in truth (said she) I will never run the venture of meeting with indiscreet, unfaithful, capricious, lukewarm, inequal and deceitful Lovers, nor bring my self in danger of having a jealous, cove∣tous, prodigal, humorsome, imperious, surly, foolish, or little virtuous Husband, nor consequently of having deformed, vicious, ingrateful and wicked Chil∣dren; and I incomparably prefer to spend my whole life with the liberty of having such Friends of either Sex as I please. For I find that if I should marry, I

should be so good a Wife that I should thereby be miserable. All Plotina's Lovers oppos'd her senti∣ments, and especially Martius; but she answer'd them so well, that they knew not what more to say to her. And so she continu'd firm in her resolution.

But now, there being no great pleasure in living in a besieged City, three or four of Plotina's friends and mine resolv'd together with us to make use of Clelia's occasion to go out of Ardea; for Horatius would not stay there, out of a belief that Tarquin would take the City. So that Plotina, without con∣sidering what grief she should cause Martius, im∣ploy'd him to manage this affair, and to bring it to pass that, we might be guarded by the same convoy which attended on Clelia. The conversation of Plotina and Martius was very extraordinary, and I know not how Plotina was able to be so inflexible as she was. For he us'd all imaginable blandishments and endearing expressions to move her heart, but she continu'd inal∣terable in her sentiments; and all he could draw from her, was, that he should never see her love any person more than himself, and that she would never marry as long as she liv'd. And indeed if the poor Martius had liv'd, I declare to you, that you would have had less interest in Plotina's heart; but you must know that when we went out of Ardea with Clelia, this generous Lover, notwithstanding his regret, came himself to conduct us; and deported himself with so heroical and passionate an air, that Plotina esteem'd him much the more for it. Now being it was fear'd that we should be sooner discover'd by the enemies if we had any considerable number of people with us, Horatius, Martius and eight of their Friends took upon themselves alone the charge of conducting us. But, such was our ill fortune, we met with Hellius, one of the Ministers of Tarquin's cruelty, who came in the head of a Party of twenty to set upon Horatius, Martius and their Friends.

How? (interrupted Amilcar) was Martius amongst those whom Hellius fought with, when Aron∣ces, Herminius and Celer (from whom Artemidorus, Zenocrates and I parted that morning) arriv'd and carri'd away Clelia who was at the foot of a Tree with you? Yes (answer'd Cesonia) and the unfortunate Martius was slain by Hellius in the beginning of the Fight, though he was very valiant. And indeed 'twas his courage occasion'd his death; for he charg'd with too great violence into the midst of those who came to take Plotina and her Friends. I will not tell you the particular passages of this encounter, for you have understood from the mouth of Aronces how Horatius and Hellius perceiving others were carrying away Clelia, joyn'd together to recover her; and how Aron∣ces, Herminius and Celer resisted so many enemies at the same time. Yes, generous Cesonia (answer'd Amil∣car) I know all that pass'd in that great occasion. I know what Clelia did, putting her self couragiously before those that would assault her three protectors, I know how terrible a Combate it was, in what man∣ner Aronces fought with Horatius, and how the gene∣rous Herminius defended both his life and liberty, and spoke to Hellius, and with what generosity Aronces as∣sisted the wounded Horatius, whom he found by night in a Wood: but I know in what manner Plotina lamen∣ted Martius when you were taken, and carried to Tar∣quin. Do not enquire so much of her grief (reply'd Cesonia) for perhaps you will think it too violent; for in good earnest, no greater affliction can be resen∣ted by any than was by Plotina for the death of Martius. But at length (constitution prevailing) she comforted her self with the thought, that perhaps if Martius had liv'd, she might have had the weakness as not to be able to defend her heart; and since that (you know) your converse has reviv'd joy in her soul.

Cesonia having done speaking, Amilcar thank'd her, for having related to him that which he had so long desir'd to know. Not but that I am almost troubled (added he) that Plotina could never begin again to love Martius; for if ever I should unwittingly in∣cur her displeasure, and she should deprive me of her friendship, I see she would never restore it to me again any more than she did to Martius. In my opinion (answer'd Cesonia) you are so little accustom'd to be ill-treated, that you do not fear so much as you pretend, that you could not make your peace with Plotina if you should happen to be out of her favour. On the contrary (repli'd Amilcar) I have scarce ever been very happy, and I am not so now; Plotina has certainly only a tenderness of friendship for me. But is it possible (said Cesonia) that Amilcar has been almost perpetually ill-treated? Since I am not capable of false boasting, (answer'd he) I confess sincerely, I have seldom been much lov'd. I have many times had the advantage to be acceptable even to those women who have ill-treated me: but my merry and jovial humor has done me more injury in serious gallantry than I can express to you. However, since it has caus'd me as much delight as the favours of my Mistresses could have done, I do not complain of my destiny. Yet I would know (said Cesonia) whether any very intelligent person has ill-treated you? I lov'd one in Greece (answer'd he) who is one of the most amiable Women in the World. She is brown then (repli'd Cesonia) being she is a Greek. That consequence is not always infallible (answer'd Amil∣car) but it is true the amiable Nerintha I speak of has hair of the goodliest black that ever was seen; a black shining and bright, which becomes her admirably well. She is of a very handsome tallness, and well propor∣tion'd; her Eyes are black, sparkling, full of fire and spirit; and though she has no wantonness in her looks, but on the contrary has a very modest air, yet when she smiles, she has an amiable aspect which pleases in∣finitely. Ncrintha's visage is oval and of good symme∣try, her mould handsome, her cheeks agreeable, her nose well shap'd, and she has an air of beauty which renders her very graceful and lovely; and though her complexion is of no extraordinary whiteness, yet her beauty is lively and capable to excite love. But besides all this, Nerintha is infinitely ingenious, and of so clear a perception as keeps her from speaking things at random. She is gentle, civil, good and obliging, she is serious and debonaire together without inequality; and though she is perfectly virtuous and even severe, yet she converses gallantly with her Friends, and suffi∣ciently loves all reasonable divertisements. She is a good friend and very generous, very regular in all her actions, and very careful to satisfie all the duties of civility and friendship. She never jests dangerously, she blames no person; and having a mind naturally soci∣able, she never speaks that of another which she would not have spoken of her self. Nerintha has a very sweet and pleasing voice, she sings very agreeably, though she does not much care for it. She speaks ex∣actly, writes handsomly, and in brief is so charming, that though she would not accept my heart, yet she shall have my esteem and friendship as long as she lives. Perhaps (said Cesonia) she had had neither the one

nor the other, if she had accepted your affection. I am not of your opinion (answer'd Amilcar) but I confess to the glory of Nerintha, I am always her Friend though she would not have me for her Lover. There are so few people amiable (said Cesonia) that me-thinks such as are so, ought to be always lov'd. It has been a complaint in all past ages (answer'd he) and will be in all to come, that there are not virtuous people enough: And yet I believe the number is almost equal in all times. I am not of your opinion (reply'd Ce∣sonia) for I think there never were fewer than at present, of such as make reckoning of persons of me∣rit. No, believe me (said Amilcar) the World is not yet so poor of virtuous people as they report, and there is also more liberality and gallant generosity than is imagin'd. For during the time I was at Syra∣cusa, there hapned many things to a young Lady of that place, which prove that which I say. Know then that this person is of noble birth, but her fortune is sufficiently bad; her heart is generous, she makes profession of being good, and without ostentation of wit has gain'd a greater reputation than she sought; know, I say, this person has had divers adventures which prove that virtue is yet in request. For (not to reckon up the number of Friends she has) many presents were made to her after a particular manner; and be∣cause it was known that she delighted more to give than to receive, an unusual contrivance was practis'd. For one morning while she was yet asleep, a crafty man deceiv'd the slave that open'd the gate to him without telling who sent him, and left a compleat furniture for a Chamber (the most agreeable and gallant that could be seen) in her Court; and though great search was made to find out the author of this liberality, yet he could not be discover'd. Yet the person who receiv'd it imagin'd she knew by whom she was thus oblig'd, but one of her friends so per∣swaded her that it was forbidden her to conjecture, that she was forc'd to suppress her gratitude and con∣fine it within her heart, without daring to publish the glory of her Benefactor. To this same Lady a great Princess of a very remote Country (who is both illustrious, of a great beauty, wit, and heart) has written divers times very eloquently in a lan∣guage which is not natural to her, and sent her a Brace∣let of her Hair which is the goodliest in the World, with a clasp of Diamonds the richest that ere was seen. The chief Vestal has also made her several agreeable presents after a very ingenious and obliging manner; so have the generous Amalthea, the Princess Elis∣monda, a noble stranger, and divers of her Friends of either Sex. 'Tis true, all these liberalities do not make her Fortune; but her humor is such that she likes them better than if they were of another nature, I have known as much as this (answer'd Cesonia) but four or five persons make no great number in a great Country. After this, Amilcar and Cesonia talkt very sadly of the pitiful condition in which the twenty fair Roman Ladies were, who were to be sent back to Porsenna. Yet there was nothing to be fear'd from that King but only in respect of Clelia, who he believ'd escap'd from his Camp only because she knew some∣thing of the pretended conspiracy of Aronces and Mutius. But the next morning it hapned that Publicola was inform'd that a certain man had met Mutius very melancholy upon the way to Praeneste, and therefore he believ'd that this despairing Lover, knowing that the great Festival of Fortune was to be celebrated within two days, was gone to that famous Temple, to see whether the Lots were more favourable to him; for 'tis reported that on that day the Decisions were more infallible than on any other of all the year. Wherefore he determin'd to request Amilcar to go thither, who accordingly accepted of this Commissi∣on. Yet he did not depart till after he had seen Clelia and all her companions gone, to be reconducted to the Camp; but to the end the people might not tu∣mult at so sad a spectacle, they were caus'd to pass through the most unfrequented streets that was possi∣ble. No doubt they were very sad in the bottom of their hearts, especially Clelia; but their sadness was discreet, and Clelia amongst the rest testifi'd an admi∣rable constancy. All their Lovers follow'd them as far as they could; but at length it behov'd them to take leave. Horatius would have gone to present them to Porsenna, thinking to speak something which might conduce to their safety; but Publicola thought not convenient, and made choice of a Kinsman of Cle∣lius, who was more advanc'd in years, and was both prudent and resolute. So these fair Virgins took the way towards the Camp, and Amilcar that towards Praeneste. As he was going thither he met with Thea∣nor and Aemilius the Lovers of Terentia and Aure∣lisa, who had at length resolv'd to refer their fortunes to the Lots of the Temple of Fortune. Amilcar be∣ing a person known to all Porsenna's Court, they were very joyful to light upon him, and he (being no lover of solitariness) was as well satisfi'd to meet with such agreeable company. Their first discourse was a me∣lancholy reflection upon the misfortunes of Aronces and Clelia; but as the most generous easily enough turn away their minds from the unhappinesses of others, they came by degrees to talk of matters indifferent. Theanor set himself to extol Hetruria above all o∣ther Countries, Aemilius to commend Greece where he had liv'd a long time, and Amilcar to praise and disparage all the Countries he had seen. For as there is no beauty so perfect (said he) in which something is not to be desir'd, so there is no Country but has its defects. In a place where the Climate is temperate, the people are light and inconstant; in another, the people have much wit, and are accus'd of little fidelity: in one Country many times we find Sciences and Vices, in another innocence and rusticity. In one place no∣thing is to be seen but Cottages, in another nothing but Palaces. So that as a hundred Beauties are requisite to make up a perfect one, so you must select the ex∣cellencies of a hundred Countries to form one accom∣plish'd. You must take the mildness of the Climate of one, the Rivers and Seas of another, the Flowers and Fruits of another, yea the very Birds and Butter-flies; you must fetch the Sciences and Arts from one place, Valour from another, Honesty from amongst people of less nimble Wits, and exact justice from Heaven (for in truth there is not much to be found upon earth.)

Amilcar, no doubt, has reason (said Theanor) but however I dare affirm Hetruria has almost every thing that can be found elsewhere. The Climate is gentle, mens manners good, ignorance begins to be ba∣nish'd from it, and excellent Arts to be carefully pro∣moted. As for excellent Arts (answer'd Amilcar) I much doubt whether you can prove that they flourish as much in Hetruria as in Greece; for I confess with sincerity to the shame of my Country, that Africa possesses them but imperfectly, and the proud Car∣thage yields in this to the least Cities of Greece. Then you have not seen that stately Tomb which Porsenna is

building (said Theanor?) I have heard of it (an∣swer'd Amilcar) but whatever has been told me of it, I have not fanci'd it to be an extraordinary piece. Yet it is such (repli'd Theanor) that I question whether the Labyrinth of Crete and the Pyramids of Egypt excel it; for, in fine, it is a Master-piece of Archi∣tecture. All the stateliness which the imagination can conceive, is seen in it. This proud Tomb is above three hundred foot on each side, the form of it is square, the stones are of a prodigious greatness, and admira∣bly well polished. In the base of this Monument is a Labyrinth greater and more intricate than that of Crete, for it is impossible to expedite your self out of it, unless he that built it give you one of his ser∣vants to guide you; and there are so many turnings and windings, and so many places which go one into another, of which all the ornaments are uniform, that 'tis impossible to find the right way. Upon this spaci∣ous base of above twelve hundred feet square, stand five great Pyramids one at each corner and the fifth in the midst. They are triangular, and are sixty feet broad at the base, and a hundred and fifty high. Upon the point of every of these Pyramids is plac'd a Cop∣per-Globe of prodigious greatness, contriv'd so ar∣tificially, that the wind entring into it at several holes which are seen in it, makes a sufficiently agreeable harmony, which is heard at a good distance. Upon the top of each Globe is a kind of Obelisk, and upon it is seen another harmonious Globe like the former, according as the wind moves that which makes the harmony: and upon this Globe appear four other Pyramids of a hundred feet in height. But do not think I am at the end of my description; for these four Pyramids support a great terrass, upon which stand five other Pyramids as high as all the rest of the Tomb, so that the points of them seeming to touch the Skie, make a very magnificent spectacle. 'Tis true (said Aemilius) this Tomb is the stateliest thing in the World, and 'tis true also that the gallant house of the illustrious Cleonymus will be the goodliest place of the earth when it shall be finish'd. As for Cleony∣mus (answer'd Amilcar) I know he is a man of ex∣traordinary merit, whose birth is very noble, whose imployments are the most considerable in Hetruria, whose heart is perfectly great, virtue sublime, and ca∣pacity infinite. But I confess I have not given too much credit to all that Lucilius and Theomenes told me once concerning the fair house you speak of. Ne∣vertheless 'tis true (reply'd Theanor) that there is nothing handsomer in the world. As they were dis∣coursing thus, they arriv'd at a place where they were to refresh their horses, so that they were constrain'd to stay there. This place was so wild, the prospect of it so bounded and little agreeable, and the reception so incommodious, that having taken but a slight re∣past, they went to seat themselves on certain stones which were at the foot of a steep mountain near that place. They were no sooner there, but Amilcar be∣ginning to speak, I beseech you, Theanor, (said he) fill my imagination with handsome idea's, by the de∣scription of the goodly house of Cleonymus: for my eyes are so little delighted with what they behold, that I have great need of your help: besides, I love no∣thing more than the representation of handsome ob∣jects, and I assure you I shall be much oblig'd to you for it. For the generous Melintha being friend to Cleonymus, I interest my self already in every thing which relates to him, I shall tell you then that Val∣terra (said Theanor)—But Volterra (interrupted Amilcar) is, as I conceive; a great city sufficiently remote from Clusium. You say true (answer'd Thea∣nor) but I said Valterra, and not Volterra: 'Tis true, these two names are near alike, and Valterra bears a name resembling that of that famous City you speak of, (which was founded by the Tyrrhenians, as well as Aressa and Clusium) because this City has so many waters about it, that there is no gate or place in which the•• are not fountains; so that the confor∣mity of the waters has occasion'd the resemblance of the names. But to proceed: when you require the de∣scription of Valterra, you demand a thing of greater difficulty than you imagine; because this place has so many surprising beauties, that they cannot be con∣ceiv'd without being seen, nor represented well after having admir'd them. It was begun and finish'd by a man who does nothing but what is great, and the vast extent of whose mind is not capable of framing small designs: by a man, I say, who devoting his whole life to the service of his King, will have even his pleasures serve to the embellishment and glory of his country. But though he employ in the build∣ing of Valterra only such hours as are necessary to recreate his mind from great cares, to which the wel∣fare of the State engages him; yet at the same time he is making a thing which one would believe could not but take up his whole life. For it is not to be imagin'd that Valterra is one of those places which are embellisht almost by Nature alone; but 'tis no hyperbole to say Cleonymus has absolutely chang'd it, and there is no part of it to which he has not added some new grace. He has divided a River into a thou∣sand fountains, he has re-united a thousand fountains into torrents, and he has so judiciously contriv'd every thing which he has done at Valterra, that the judg∣ment of him cannot be sufficiently extoll'd, who knew so well how to intermingle the beauties of Art with those of Nature, and so industriously to diver∣tise all the ornaments of so goodly a place. 'Tis true, this handsome Desart being design'd for the habita∣tion of one of the fairest persons in the world, ought to be such as it is, to be worthy of her; for you must know, the prudent Artemira wife of the illustri∣ous Cleonymus has one of those grand Beauties which continually encrease admiration: and that which I esteem most, is, her virtue redoubles the price of her beauty; for, as wanton a person as you are, I am con∣fident you will grant that these two things suit admi∣rably well together. I confess it (answer'd Amilcar) therefore tell me a little more particularly what you know of the fair Artemira. Ha! Amilcar (reply'd Theanor) I tremble only in thinking that I have un∣dertaken to describe Gardens and Fountains to you; judge then what I should do if I should undertake to tell you all the Grand qualities, and all the virtues of one of the most accomplish'd persons in the World. Be contented therefore if I perform my promise to describe Valterra. But before I tell you, what it is at present, I must relate a little adventure to you, which is necessary that you know, to understand the description I am to make.

Know then, that a fair and young person, Kinswo∣man to the King of Hetruria and much lov'd by him, sometimes hapned to excite love in a man of Quality, of a violent and imperious humor; who judging that he could never be favour'd, resolv'd to carry his Mistress away by force. Which accordingly he did one day as she was walking in a Grove; and diver∣ting her self by causing a Squirrel to follow her from

tree to tree, which she had kept from a little one, and which lov'd her with more ardour than a Dog can have for his Master, though the Dog is an Em∣blem of Fidelity amongst all Nations. This violent act much surpris'd the whole Court, and especially an honourable person of Clusium, whose name was Cleoranthus, and from whom the illustrious Cleony∣mus who built Valterra is descended; for you must know, he was very amorous of her, though he durst not declare it by reason of the King. But in this un∣expected occasion, he could not hide his sentiments. Wherefore suddenly gathering together some of his Dependants, he went to seek this stoln Lady. The King also sent out most of his Court to the same purpose, and went himself; but this search was made unprofita∣ble, and Cleoranthus had been as unhappy as the rest, if the Chance which guided him to a Cottage of Shep∣herds had not shew'd him the little Squirrel which his Mistress lov'd so much, and which stuck to her in spight of her Ravishers. At first he believ'd it was another; but the little Animal knowing him, skipt down from the window where it was with that nimbleness which is natural to it. Whereby Cleoranthus, believing his Mistress might be there, or at least had pass'd by that way, askt a young Shepherdess where she was to whom this pretty Animal belong'd. He had no sooner made this question, but he who had carry'd away that fair Virgin (coming from enquiring the way he was to take, because he had fail'd to meet his guide) ap∣pear'd with his Sword in his hand, follow'd by six of his Attendants; and at the same time four men, who had stay'd to guard that fair person, issu'd out of the Cottage with their Swords drawn too. But Cleoran∣thus, instead of being terrifi'd by so many enemies, became thereby more fierce and couragious. And so he attacqu'd his Rival with such valour, that not∣withstanding the inequality of number, he flew his enemy, and three others, and put the rest to flight. After which, to compleat his happiness, he understood by one of those he wounded who lay upon the place, the secret of a great Conspiracy against the Prince. Thus Cleoranthus deliver'd his Mistress, and saved all Hetruria by his valour. But which was remarkable, at the end of the fight, the Squirrel made him a thou∣sand caresses, and would not part from him. Where∣fore when the King was inform'd of all the Circum∣stances of the business, and of Cleoranthus passion for this fair person (whom notwithstanding he restor'd into his power without signifying any thing of his love) was so mov'd with his Virtue, that he suppress'd the inclination himself had for her, and caus'd her to marry him. But to eternize the memory of this gene∣rous action, as Hector, Aeneas, and many others since, caus'd Lyons, Roses, Doves, and divers other things agreeing either to their valour, merit, virtue or for∣tune, to be painted upon their shields, he order'd that Cleoranthus and his Descendants should bear a Squir∣rel for their Arms. And accordingly they of this Fami∣ly bear a Squirrel in their shields to this day. I desire your pardon for having amus'd you with speaking of this adventure; but you will see in the sequel of my dis∣course, that I have not related it altogether imperti∣nently. I am next to tell you that Valterra is situated half a days journy from Clusium, that the way between them is very pleasant, and that to encrease the surprize, the beauty of it is not perceiv'd till you arrive at the fore Court, which is stately, fair and spacious. It hath four great Pavilions at the four Corners, with other Courts on the two sides. The two faces which stand upon the stately Moats of Valterra, end in three great Archades of Architecture, through which are discover'd two large low Wings of Building, which have been built for Offices to the House, and two Gardens which lie on the side of those two Wings. When you are in the fore Court, you behold the front of the Palace, which is built upon a Mountain of Ar∣chitecture (if I may so speak) for the Perroon which takes up the whole breadth of the second Court, has four seats, and rises above twenty steps. So that this gives much Majesty to the Structure. Which be∣fore I describe to you, I must lead you back again into the fore Court, and tell you, that after you have pass'd through it, you come to the Bank of the Moats which are large, handsome, and the water of them clear as Crystal, and arises from a Spring. These Moats are beset with Rails on both sides; and near the Bridge which lies over them, are seen the Muzzles of Ly∣ons casting out water into three Scalop. Basins, which shed it one into another till it fall into the Moats. When you have pass'd the Bridge, and come into the midst of a little half Moon adorn'd with Rails, you may see that the second Court, which is very large and handsom, has a terrass on two sides rais'd three steps, upon which are plac'd two spirting Foun∣tains, which make a very handsom shew in that place. For when you are at the end of the Bridge, there is nothing more stately and magnificent than to see those handsome Moats full of water, the second Court the Balustrades, the spirting Fountains, and that great and magnificent Perroon which crosses the whole Court, rising so Majestically, and upon which is seen in the middle of the Palace a great Porch of three stately Arches supported by six Pillars, which suffer the sight to penetrate through the whole thickness of the Pa∣lace by three other Arches opposite to the three first, and three other likewise opposite to the second; so that the Skie appearing at several overtures, this sight is the more agreeable. In the midst of the Porch are seen two very handsome Statues of young Children taming Lyons, to imitate that innocence atchieves eve∣ry thing; and the Arms of Cleonymus, such as I have represented them to you by relating the glorious ad∣venture of one of his Ancestors. The Cupolo which arises in the midst of the Building, is very magnificent, and so are the Busts, and the carv'd works wherewith this Palace is adorn'd in divers places. But when you have ascended the Perroon, and are arriv'd at the Porch, you find it handsomer than you imagin'd; for the proportion of it is exact and noble, it is supported by twelve pillars of a very handsome order of Archi∣tecture. From thence you behold with pleasure the two fair Courts you pass'd through: but, which is a greater grace, you enter upon an even pavement into the goodliest Hall that ever was. For its greatness astonishes the imagination, its height surprises, and its beauty is so great, that it takes away the boldness to commend it. The Cupolo is supported by sixteen stately Arches, whereof six are open; namely, three towards the Porch, and three toward the Gar∣dens, which are admirable. But how rare soever they are, I must stay you a little in the Hall, and at least shew you the first apartment of this proud Fabrick. I must also tell you that for the glory of this great de∣sign, Cleonymus has been so happy as to find an excel∣lent man capable to execute his great intentions, and happily to invent whatever might serve to the embel∣lishment of so goodly a place. He I speak of, is call'd Meleander, and is the same that painted the

Cabinet of the generous Melintha. He was born with a great wit, an exquisite fancy, and an admirable judgment. His Idea's are noble and natural, there is grandeur in his designs, and reason always in what he makes. Therefore he was chosen by Cleonymus to paint this proud Hall, and all the several apartments of his Palace; and also to use his inventions and counsels for all such things as might imbellish Valterra. But since his aim is always to work for the glory of him that employs him, see what the design of the Hall is, of which I will unfold to you the hidden sense after I have given you the description. The Sun is represented there in his Palace with all the Ornaments Poets attri∣bute him; the whole Base of the Piece is encompass'd with a great Serpent representing the year; upon this Serpent move the months, the weeks and the days; every season is accompani'd with the months, weeks and days which agree to it; and all the Stars are seen there, which the Sun visits in making his course. But in the midst of this proud Palace of the Sun (the Archi∣tecture of which is admirable, and the Pillars resem∣ble precious stones, and the Basis and Chapters gold) is seen upon a proud arch a Throne of Gold rais'd several steps, upon which the Hours, daughters of the Sun mount and descend. They are represented like young fair persons, habited in different and light dresses. This luminous God is cloathed with a cloak of cloath of Gold, he is crown'd with an immortal Laurel, he leans with one hand upon his harp, and with the other he makes a sign to Aurora as if he commanded something; for his eyes are turn'd to∣wards her. This fair harbinger of the Sun has a garland of Flowers and Pearls upon her head; she has wings painted with fine colours; with one hand she scatters flowers in divers places, and with the other she holds a torch, which she makes use of to illuminate a New Star by the command of the Sun. This new Star is plac'd in the midst of the Heaven in form of a Squirrel, three higher stars give it their most favorable influences. Saturn bearing his sickle encompasseth it with his Serpent beset with Stars, which denotes the eternity of its glory. Jupiter sitting upon his Eagle with a very noble action and Majestical air gives it a Crown of gold, to signifie the Authority which it is to have. Mars on the other side with his fierce as∣pect gives it a Helmet and a Lyon. Below the Sun appears the Season which represents Summer, crown'd with ears of Corn, her Complexion is a little Sun∣burnt, her hair is guilded, her air is very agreeable; she carelesly sirs and leans upon such fruits as are suita∣ble to her, and near her are seen several instruments necessary to Agriculture. She holds a sheaf of Wheat in her hand, and is supported by a swarthy man who represents the South Wind. About her stand the Moneths which belong to her, represented by young persons crown'd with flowers and fruits; they have Wings, their Attires are different, and they present fruits to this lovely Season, as well as the weeks and days which are represented by little children who seem to move along as they play near her. In another place Mercury appearing with all the marks that par∣ticularize him, lifting up his arm wherewith he holds his Caduce, seems as if he would give all his eloquence and knowledge to the New Star I men∣tion'd, he looks upon it so favourably. About this God are seen several instruments necessary for ex∣cellent Arts, and likewise divers little Cupids denoting the various inclination which Nature gives. The Moon, not being able to behold her Brother, appears through the shadow of a Cloud, and about her is seen a great hunting equipage, as dogs, bugles, bows, ar∣rows, and divers other things, and in many places little Genii agreeably represented; this fair Star re∣gards the new Star as favorably as Mercury. On an∣other side Venus follow'd by Sports and Laughter ap∣pears lying upon a bed of Roses: and near her are seen divers things which agree to her, and which are always inseparable from pleasures. She holds a golden Apple in her hand, seeming to offer it to this new Star, as if she meant, that it was such amongst the Stars as her self amongst the Goddesses. Also several little Cu∣pids are seen playing near her. The Spring is represen∣ted by a Young fair Girl, with a fresh and smiling air, her hair is brown and curl'd, she has a crown of flowers upon her head, her attire is green; the Months which are near her, present flowers to her, Zephyrus flat∣ters her, and the weeks and days busie themselves in embellishing her. Autumn is figur'd by a good lusty man, crown'd with Vine-leaves, he lies amongst fruits which are proper to him, and leans upon a Tyger, the Moneths which accompany him offer him their fruits also, they are attended likewise with their weeks and days, and the Wind of this Season is represented there also, but more fierce than the rest, and the drapery of the figure shews that he inconveniences him by his impetuous blast. On the side opposite to Summer is represented the Bow of Iris with all the Colours that render it so agreeable. Under this Bow appears Winter represented by a rough old man, crown'd with mists, snow, and icycles. The Moneths, weeks and days which accompany him offer him no∣thing but unpleasing presents, except some of those days which are very little, and offer him fire. On the side of the Bow I mentioned, are Castor and Pollux, who mount and descend upon the Horizon: but I must not forget to tell you that in all places where that famous Squirrel is represented, either in a Star, or in its na∣tural form, there is a device added to it which is very graceful in the language in which it was made; and the sense of it is, That there is nothing so high where∣to it cannot mount. But now to expound to you the hidden meaning of all these Pictures, I am to tell you that the Sun represents Cleonymus, who according to the amplitude of his great employments, operates and shines every where, does good to all, and labours con∣tinually for the benefit and embellishing of the Uni∣verse. By the four Seasons of the year, Meleander has pretended to represent the several States of Hetruria which are tributary, and attribute the honour to Cleo∣nymus of receiving and rendring all, because he has the management of the Princes treasures. The new Star in the top of the Skie, shews that there is nothing more sublime than the glory of Cleonymus; and that Starry Serpent I spoke of, denotes the prudence of this He∣roe: so that the Pictures of this proud Hall, satisfie together both the Eyes and the Reason, and serve at the same time both to the glory of this Heroe, and that of the excellent Meleander, who has so well found out the art to commend him by his Pencils more than Poetry could do. But to pass from the Hall to the anti-Chamber, upon the top of the sieling you see Hercules carried into the heavens in a Chariot of gold, under which is a slain Serpent. Reason (represented by a fair young person of a sage aspect) guides him; she has a helmet on her head, and holds a sword where∣with she seems to menace: two fierce and heady horses withdraw the chariot that carries him, and by their impetuous posture intimate that they represent the

Passions, who in spight of their violence are never∣theless subjected to Reason. They have both a duskie brightness in their eyes. But there is one especially, whose mane stands erected, and who lifts up his head fiercely, whose piercing, lively and furious eyes cast a fiery glance which astonishes and surprises such as have skill in Painture. Fame is painted flying there, and seeming as if she would descend to the earth; and in a very bright part of the heaven appears Jupi∣ter and the other Gods preparing to receive this He∣roe, who is follow'd by Glory, putting an Oaken Garland upon his head. But what is rare in this Piece, is, that in whatever part of the chamber you stand, this Hercules seems to behold you as naturally in one place as in another. But I do not consider that I trouble you by not being able to represent these admirable Pieces but imperfectly. Yet I would further tell you some∣thing of the principal chamber: but to speak truth, I have seen so handsome and admirable a description of it, that I cannot but tremble to attempt it. For in∣deed I never saw any thing so handsome as that which a certain Virtuoso has writ upon this Subject; de∣scribing things so to the life, that you would think you beheld them with your eyes; and though he im∣ploys almost all the terms of Art, yet his discourse is clear, florid, eloquent and natural.

Oh! I beseech you, (said Amilcar) tell me all that you have seen in that magnificent Palace; for I never saw the handsome description you commend so much; and if I return into Africa shortly, (as I ex∣pect) I shall not see it in a long time. If you were to see it, (answer'd Theanor) I would resolve not to content your curiosity; for besides that the description I shall make of it will be much less exact and ample than that, being I have the same things to describe, and Painture has certain peculiar terms which cannot be omitted, you would accuse me of a crime which I have no design to commit, and presently imagine that I in∣tended only to copy it out, and deprive him of the commendations he has so justly merited. But how∣ever, since you desire it (continu'd he) I shall tell you, that the famous Meleander aiming always at the glory of his Heroe, has in the roof of this chamber represen∣ted Fidelity carry'd up by her powerful Genius into heaven. This Figure is very handsome, habited in white with a blew Robe, and has several marks which make her known: Prudence conducts her, Virtue and Reason are of each side of her admirably represen∣ted; the latter seems to personate Apollo shooting with his Bowe against Envie and divers other mon∣sters which hide themselves in the thickness of the clouds. Under these Figures is Clio, one of the most famous Muses; she seems to bear her self up in the air with great wings display'd; scarce any thing is seen of her but her back; her Robe is of the co∣lour of Gold, and beneath it another flying clothing of a different colour. This Muse helps to carry up Fide∣lity into heaven, and holds a Trumpet to publish that there is nothing whereto the fidelity of Cleonymus can∣not attain. This Piece being in the midst of the cham∣ber, is the principal design of the Painter; all the rest which encompass it, suit with it, and depend of it. The most ingenious contrivance is, that this excellent Pain∣ter has by his Art made the whole roof of the cham∣ber appear a great and stately body of building, with the goodliest ornaments that Painture and Sculpture have invented. For having drawn five large overtures, one in the midst, and the others on the four sides, five admirable Pieces are represented in them, which perfectly embellish the room. But be∣sides these Pieces, the Figures plac'd upon this seeming structure are the handsomest in the world. For the eight famous sisters of Clio are painted on the four-sides of the chamber, and seem to make a concert of praises in honour of him whom Fidelity represents. But they are so exquisite, that nothing can be seen in the world more admirable. All their heads have diffe∣rent airs, their actions correspond with what they represent, and they have a certain aspect of divinity which excites respect. These Figures are plac'd near four base-reliefs of the colour of brass, beset with se∣veral magnificent ornaments. For in this place are seen four different Poems represented by different figures. The Satyrical is represented by a Satyre lying along; he leans upon a great Urn, and has a young child be∣fore him, who shews him three words written upon a Table which declare what he is. Below this base-relief are seen divers excellent ornaments, where in the Squir∣rel and the Device are conveniently plac'd: for there is an antique Urn of lapis Lazuli; upon that an Eagle, upon the Eagle a Squirrel, and on both sides of the Urn very jolly Cupids and Garlands, which falling down upon the Eagles back, slide from thence very gracefully. The other base-reliefs are like, ex∣cepting the Poems. That which treats only of Rusti∣cal things; is represented by the God Pan; the He∣roick, by a stately and handsome man holding a Trum∣pet in his hand; the Lyrick, by a fair Virgin hold∣ing a Harp. Each of these Figures has a little Cupid like the first, and each Poem has two Muses which accompany it. Melpomene and Thalia are near the Satyrick. The former (to whom the invention of Tragedy is attributed) has fierceness and melancholy in her eyes: her attire is suitable to her quality, and her gesture and air speak her mind employ'd about great thoughts and events: and to denote her chief subject, Trumpets, Helmets, Shields and Crowns (ming∣led together with a confusion more agreeable than order) are seen near her. As for the Muse design'd for Comedy, she has a pretty, scornful, chearful and smiling air. Her head is crown'd with I vie, and her neck bare; she has rich bracelets, and a large blew robe, which is very graceful to her. She holds a Vizard in her hand, and has another at her feet which resembles a Satyre, and near her lie like Trophies all the instru∣ments proper for Bacchanals. Near the Poem desti∣nated to country-matters, stand Terpsichore and Eu∣terpe; one holding a kind of harp, the other a flute, on which she seems to play. The former has a noble air, the other somewhat rustick and wild: their ha∣bits are agreeable, and the variety of colours does not interrupt that union which is requisite to all good Pi∣ctures. Near these Muses are seen books, maps, hoboys and bagpipes. The Heroick Poem has Calliope and U∣rania by it: the former having a book in her hand, and the latter leaning upon one of those Globes which a Disciple of the wise Thales invented, holds a pair of Compasses in the other hand. Calliope has a sage and majestical air; and Urania fixing her eyes upon the heavens, seems to observe the course of the Stars, and mind nothing else. Polyhymnia and Erato are plac'd near the Lyrick Poem; the first chiefly destinated to Painture, has near her all the instruments requisite to that excellent Art: her habit is mix'd of several colours; she has a nobler air, and the gesture of a per∣son studying to enterprise some great work in Pain∣ture. Erato has piercing eyes, & a very pleasant aspect; at her feet are seen divers Musical instruments, and a

little Cupid crown'd with flowers, holding before her an ancient fashion'd harp, such as they report Orpheus sometimes made use of to save himself. But to mani∣fest the ingenuity of the Painter, I must tell you they have no wings, as Clio has who helps to conduct Fi∣delity into heaven; because he would intimate here∣by, that they ought to stay eternally in the glorious san∣ctuary Cleonymus has given them. The Painter has also feign'd that they made two Pieces of needle-work representing their two Victories over the Pierides and the Syrens; but this is done with so much art that it cannot be sufficiently commended. Besides, all that I have related, all the ornaments which Painture and Sculpture have invented are seen in this place. For in divers places, where the order of Architecture permitted, are vizards, garlands, urns, sphinxes, and several other things. But it is remarkable that there is not one but has some Mystery, intimating the virtues or glory of Cleonymus to such as understand the meaning given to such various figures. So that the Painter cannot be too much commended who has so well fanci'd and finished so good a design, wherein appears Invention, Judgment, Boldness, and good Sense. It is manifest throughout that he is not only a great Imitator of Nature, but also understands the Art of embellishing; and that his imaginations surpass her Productions. All that is seen in these rare Pictures alike delight the Eyes and the Reason. Never were Light and Sha∣dow so judiciously dispos'd, never was the sight deceived after a more agreeable manner. All the little Cupids are excellently done, the Head∣tires of the Muses are admirable, the Draperies are perfectly well suted, Modesty is visible even in the Figures, which the Painter has habited very negligently. The Objects which appear near∣est, deceive the Eyes; the more remote surprise the Imagination: in fine, all the workmanship both of the Hall and the two Chambers, deserves more commendations than can be given it. But now not to stay to tell you of the Cabinet, or all the other apart∣ments of this proud Palace, wherein are a thou∣sand handsome objects, with which the famous Meleander has embellisht it, either by his workman∣ship or a thousand ingenious inventions which can∣not be express'd, I must return into the stately Hall, and describe to you the Gardens of so goodly a Place. But I must tell you first, that the face of the house on this side is very different from the former; so is the Perroon, but withal stately and commodious. The Moats are inviron'd with rails too as the other; and from hence you discover so great and vast an ex∣tent of several green-plats, so many large and hand∣some Walks, so many spirting Fountains, and so many delightful objects which become confused by their distance, that you scarce know what you see, because the multitude of agreeable sights amazes the imagination, and hinders the eyes from fixing upon any at first. For curiosity being a natural senti∣ment, we do not so much mind that which we might easily discern, as that which we cannot distinguish; so true it is that we love to discover things to our selves. 'Tis to be observed that this Garden lies between two Groves which agreeably arrest the Eyes: but to describe it to you part by part, I must tell you, that when you are at the end of the Bridge, you see at a good distance towards the right hand and the left two spirting Fountains stand∣ing in two very solitary corners, and seeming to hide themselves; and before you, great Green∣plats with Fountains, a round Pond in the middle, and on either side in the nearest squares three Fountains, whose artificial water-works agreeably divert the eyes, especially one towards the left hand, where is seen a crown of fruit bushes (if I may so speak.) The Basin of it is rustick enough, but you would say it is sufficiently adorn'd with its own agreeableness. About the round Pond I mention'd are four little Cupids holding scallop-lavers upon their heads, from which the water falls with a continual mur∣mur into little squares inviron'd with green. On each side of the Pond are seen great green squares which reach to the two Groves, and have fountains in them also. On the right hand is seen at a good distance a cullis'd-Gate leading into a rustick Orchard, and on the left a Cascade representing a kind of grate of Wa∣ter, to correspond to the true grate which is opposite to it. Beyond the Pond you descend by another Perroon, and have two conduits casting forth water on the right hand. In this place at the crossing of a Walk stand four handsom Statues; but to increase the delightfulness, a little further in that Walk are two little Torrents with Jets of water at several di∣stances one into another which look like a Balustrade of crystal running on both sides of the Walk. And no∣thing is more pleasant than to hear the murmurs of all these Jets of water, whose equality of delightful har∣mony is very apt to produce an agreeable amusement. When you are at the end of this Walk, you find a large square of water, and discover a little solitary place, above which stands a small wild Grove. Directly before you, you see a great and handsom spectacle which I shall describe to you by and by, and on the right side of the Mount which I am to describe, Vines and divers other Country objects. Beyond that great square of water you see an object perfectly surprising. For standing upon the Perroon which leads further down∣wards, you see a fair stream of water from which a hundred Jets issue with an equal force, and falling again into the Channel make an agreeable murmur. And a little beyond, you see another less, which may be call'd a Walk of Crystal. For there are an infi∣nite number of Jets of water in a double rank, which crossing one another make an extreme delightful shew. Nevertheless, this is not the goodliest ornament of this place; for below this Walk of Crystal you see a long Terrass of good height, four long rows of scal∣lop-lavers full of water, of unequal bigness, which ex∣onerating one into another make you see a hundred torrents at once, and at length discharge themselves into a great stream of water, from whence issue fifty other Jets with violence. Next you come to see a great and large Channel made by a River which was scarce known before Cleonymus chose this admirable Desart for a retreat to recreate his mind from his honourable employments. It precipitates it self like a mighty torrent, and then having calmly pass'd through the whole breadth of the Garden of Valterra. it goes forth by a Cascade, and afterwards loses it self in the Meadows. So that in a very little space it is a River, Torrent, Channel, Cascade, and Brook. But to render this place more marvellous, you see beyond, an Abyss of water (if I may so speak) in the midst of which by the directions of Meleander has been plac'd a figure of Galatea with a Cyclops playing on a bagpipe, and divers Tritons round about him; all these figures cast forth water, and make a very hand∣some sight. There are also other water works in

this place; and several spirting fountains. But which is most agreeable, all this great extent of water is co∣ver'd with little painted and guilded Boats, and from thence you enter into the Channel. Now you must know that on the side opposite to the Cascade I mention'd, there is cut out a great Mount in a direct line, which is made in a Terrass with a Balustrade, sup∣ported by six Terms or Pillars. Between which are artificial Rocks always cover'd with water, and at the foot of these Rocks is a kind of little Chanel into which that water trickles agreeably. On the right side of these Rocks the Tyber is represented, as Rivers use to be, that is, half lying along and leaning upon his Urn; but he seems melancholy, as if he were dis∣contented for being surpass'd by the River of the place, which is seen represented on the other side with a chearful and pleasant aspect. But I must not forget to tell you that in these Chanels and the abyss of wa∣ter are seen Statues upon great Pedestals representing the several parts of the world, having in them the most precious things of the Countrys which they re∣present, which they carry as it were to pay tribute; to denote that the whole earth has contributed to em∣bellish this place. But the better to enjoy the sight and admire so many handsome objects at once, you must ascend up the Mount by two stately Perroons made like an Amphitheatre, which have also fix very goodly fountains of different forms. About the midst, at the Base of the Balustrade are seen two great Lyons, which by Meleander's contrivance shew after a parti∣cular manner the Arms of Cleonymus; for the Squirrel is seen betwen the paws of the Lyons, but so that 'tis manifest these cruel Animals have nothing but gen∣tleness and kindness for it. When you come to the end of the Mount a large green round of water surprises you, in the midst of which arises as by miracle a Jet of water fifty feet high, of so prodigious and extraor∣dinary a greatness, that it would seem a thick pillar of Crystal, if the motion did not convince the eyes. And to denote that it is the last piece of this great and excellent workmanship, there is plac't beyond it a handsome statue of Hercules resting himself after all his Labours which are represented in sculpture upon the Pedestal. In this place seats are built to behold so many rare things the more commodiously, which appear so much the more excellent, for that from thence also divers plain and rustick objects are seen. For on both sides you see two rude prospects and a little Temple amongst the Trees. This Mount has Walks on each side, and grass in the middle, and from thence you have a fairer sight of the building than from any other place, with the two back-wings which belong to it, the two Garden-plats which are on both sides, the vast compass of the great Garden between the two Groves, all the divers spirting Fountains, the Chanels, the Squares of Water, the Cascades, and those too which are on the side of the Garden for Flowers, which is before one of the Wings. Hence also is discovered a thing which has been happily in∣vented by the famous Meleander; for whereas Cleo∣nymus has several ancient rarities, and especially two Figures of Stone, which are said to have serv'd for the Sepulture of the first Kings of Libya; in a little irre∣gular corner of ground he has caus'd two Pyramids to be built, in imitation of those which are near Mem∣phis; to the end to place in them all such kind of rari∣ties as he possesses. So that the sight of these Pyra∣mids together with that of so many excellent and dif∣ferent objects takes away all thought of regretting that this place has not one of those prospects in which Rivers and Seas are discover'd, and in which the eyes are oftner wearied than diverted. For every thing that is seen in this admirable Desart is agreeable, the eyes cannot stray but with delight. Nevertheless, you must not imagine that I have described all the Beauties of this place to you; for I am confident I have omit∣ted very many; and besides, to speak truth, Valter∣ra is but in its infancie (if I may so speak) and there will be so much difference between what it is now, and what it will be one day, as there is between a fair Virgin when she is but twelve years old and when she is eighteen. And yet 'tis hard to imagine that any thing can be added to it; and when any one walks there, he so forgets himself that he cannot retire. Indeed (as it is fit to return to the source of things) in this Garden one cannot but think with pleasure on the worth and virtue of him that has render'd it such as it is, who in his great employments has dis∣play'd all the grand Qualities of his wit and courage, and who by his justice, humanity, and magnificence has found the art to oblige the happy and miserable, and to be the Protector of all virtuous persons, ill∣treated by fortune, as well as of the Sciences and ex∣cellent Arts.

Ha! Theanor (said Amilcar perceiving he had done speaking) I am infinitely oblig'd to you for having so well describ'd Valterra; I confess, I am charm'd with it; the beauties of the Vally of Tempe are not comparable to those you have describ'd, the Country of Elis has nothing that approaches them; Athens, Corinth, Thebes, Carthage, Babylon, and Rome have nothing so admirable; nor does all the Earth afford a more excellent place. But how rare so∣ever it be, I should rather chuse to have the mind and capacity of Cleonymus than his fair House.

After this, Aemilius having confirm'd that which Theanor had related, they went to Horse again. But because they had stay'd a very long time in that place they were overtaken by night. So that in the midst of a thick Wood Amilcar unawares separated himself from Theanor and Aemilius. He stray'd two or three miles; but at length the Moon rising, he found the right way again, and saw he was not far from Prae∣neste which he perceiv'd upon the top of a hill. Which hill has this particularity, that being environ'd with divers others less high, all their tops seem to form a kind of a Crown, which makes a very handsom sight; and therefore some affirm that this place was hereto∣fore call'd Stephane which signifies a Crown; and others Polystephane which signifies in Greek many Crowns; for Praeneste was of a Greek foundation, and built (as the inhabitants pretend) by a son of Ulysses and Circe: but others ascribe its foundation to another cause. But be it how it will, Amilcar ar∣riving there observ'd the hope of Peace began to re∣vive commerce; for there was an infinite number of strangers there, and all places appointed for the lodg∣ing of such as came to consult the Lots were so full, that he could not be entertain'd there. So he went to the Quarters of Telantus, who receiv'd him very civilly, and there he found one of the most intimate Friends of the illustrious Amalthea, whose name was Cleontus son of the sage Timantus, and who by his virtue and a thousand excellent Qualities deserv'd the esteem of all that knew him. And therefore Amilcar was very joyful to see him and embrace him. I did not think (said Telantus, observing in what manner they convers'd together) two persons of so contrary

humors, could have been such pleasant company to∣gether. No, no (answer'd Amilcar) do not deceive your self by apparences: Cleontus has indeed a seri∣ous air, a wise, and sufficiently melancholy deport∣ment; but for all this seeming coldeness, if you con∣sider his eyes well, you will oftentimes see a judicious smile there, which will convince you that he does not hate mirth in another so much as you believe. I know well (added he) he is more Philosopher than I, he passes better with solitude, he would Sacrifice all the pleasures of the world for glory, and will have Reason be absolute Mistress of his life. But for all this he complyes with such a friend as I; and though he suffers not folly in his own heart, yet he suffers it in that of a Friend, provided it be innocent and agreea∣ble; in a word, it may be said Cleontus is capable of being whatever he pleases. He would be very apt to be extremely amorous if he pleas'd, he would be am∣bitious if he were minded, he is learned because he would be so, he makes Verses as well as Anacreon, he is able to make Laws of Friendship; and, in fine, I know nothing which he could not discharge with ap∣plause. But wisdom (added Amilcar) is his Ma∣ster-piece. He might be even as violent as Timantus, though he appears always serene, but he likes better to preserve an even and an equal temper, which in∣deed is very amiable. You see (answer'd Cleontus smiling) that to verifie what you say, I hear my own praises quietly; but to divert you from them, I will inform you that the charming Niece of Amalthea is married, and I was at a little Feast which preceeded her Nuptials, and was the most jovial one in the world. I beseech you (said Amilcar) make me understand all that you know of that charming person. She has married (answer'd Cleontus) a man of high Quality, who is tall, well proportion'd, and has a very good aspect; he is call'd Perianthus; he began to go to the War in the fourteenth year of his age, so that though he is yet but two and twenty, he has serv'd eight Campagnes already with honor. In the first en∣counter he was present at, he was wounded and taken prisoner; but this did not discourage him, but on the contrary, he lov'd glory the better. But it is not to be wonder'd that he is couragious, of a brave ge∣nius, and mov'd with a great number of excellent Qualities, for he is son of a man whose reputation for Valour and Gallantry is known over all the World; and in fine, that fair Clarista could not have a better match. I am very glad to understand this a∣greeable news (reply'd Amilcar) but to speak freely, I cannot believe that a Marriage-Feast could have been agreeable; therefore you will do me a pleasure to tell me the manner of that you speak of. I will content your curiosity (answer'd Cleontus) Imagine then, that there was a Galeot painted, guilded, and adorn'd with Streamers, in which there was an Anti-chamber and a Chamber curiously painted and guilded. The pavement of the Chamber of the Poope was white blew, the Tapistry green and silver. The Company was in these three places, and the Musick was towards the Prow. We departed from the City about evening, and went to a fair House belonging to the Young Prince of Syracusa; where we arriv'd a little be∣fore night. There we were entertain'd with a sump∣tuous feast, in which was both order and abundance; after which we walk'd in the Gardens by the noise of fountains which was mix'd with Musick and Discourse; and for a happy presage of this Love, it thunder'd and lightned as long as the Company was upon the way returning home: and which was remarkable, assoon as we were arriv'd, there follow'd a terrible rain; so that it may be said Heaven had a kind respect for us. The great commendation of this Feast was, it had nothing at all of Ceremony, no more than the Mar∣riage-day. For this second Feast was made with such order and magnificence in the stately Palace of Amal∣thea, that never was any seen better contriv'd. Since that admirable Lady had the ordering of it (answer'd Amilcar) I believe all that you say; for she can ne∣ver do any thing but what is worthy to be admir'd. But I admire her chiefly for the choice of her friends, for certainly the sentiments of people are best known thereby; and according to the humor I am of, I should more glory in being the friend of Amalthea, than the Favorite of a great King, that had no exquisite judgment.

After this Amilcar inquir'd concerning Berelisa, Clidamira, and Anacreon, and then of Mutius who was the occasion of this journey. As for Berelisa and Clidamira (answer'd Telantus) they are in perfect health; but they have not consulted the Lots yet, be∣cause 'tis the custom to Sacrifice first. And as for Anacreon, he was made on Ode since he came hither, which is without doubt a very excellent one; the sub∣ject of it, is, That riches avail nothing against death. But, for Mutius, I can give you no information con∣cerning him: not that 'tis impossible that he may be here without my knowing it; for so great a number of people have arriv'd within these two days, that he may easily be here and I not know so much. But if he is (added he) I shall soon know it; for to morrow all that would know their Destinies write their names; and so I promise you to give you an account in a little time. After this, Telantus thank'd Amilcar for having given him the knowledge of Berelisa, Clidamira, and Anacreon; for since Fortune first drew unhappy per∣sons to Praeneste, there never arriv'd any here, whose conversation has been more charming; so that Be∣relisa and Clidamira have already been visited by all the Virtuoso's of the City. Amilcar then having a new impatience to see these two amiable per∣sons, motion'd to Telantus to go thither after supper; and he not opposing the proposal, they went together to visit them. By the way, they met with Anacreon, who joyn'd himself with them: but when Amilcar enter'd into Berelisa's chamber, he was much sur∣pris'd to see so fair and great a company there; for there were eight or ten very amiable women, and almost as many men of quality, whose air and physiognomy spoke them ingenious, and in a corner an old Thus∣can Soothsayer, who was entertaining himself amongst this great company. Berelisa and Clidamira were ve∣ry joyful to see Amilcar, and testifi'd as much to him in words extreme obliging. Their looks no doubt at first askt him news of Artemidorus; but their mouths enquir'd of the generous action of Clelia, of which they had already heard some confus'd report. Amilcar satisfi'd their curiosity; and to content them absolutely, he employ'd his discourse so, as that he many times nam'd Artemidorus, and that in such a way, as gave them to understand that he was in better health than when they left Rome; he also found means to deliver a Letter of that Prince to Berelisa without being observ'd. But after this, Amilcar a little more exactly consider'd all this fair company than he had done: 'Tis certainly my good fortune which brought me hither (said he) and I account it so much the better (added he) because I find more than I

expected. For I imagin'd, none but unfortunate peo∣ple with melancholy faces were to be found at Prae∣neste; and yet I see fair persons here, who have bright and sparkling eyes, and agreeable aspects; and men who have not the countenances of the unhappy. If all unfortunate persons had pale complexions, sunk eyes, and a melancholy air (answer'd Anacreon) not only this company which appears to you so fair, would not be such, but all the world would seem terrible. For they who have no infelicities make themselves some; and from the greatest Kings in the world to the most miserable slaves, all complain and murmure against Fortune: 'tis in vain that she makes presents to men; they turn her favours into poyson, they have that with∣in themselves which destroys their felicity, and seek∣ing it always without, they take no care to find it in their own hearts. Yet methinks (said Amilcar) all that is needful to make men happy is in the Universe: but 'tis certainly (added he) their extravagant desires transposing the order of things, cause them to be dis∣gusted with what they enjoy, and to wish that which they have not. That which you see is true (answer'd Telantus) but yet something further must be added to it: for the cause that there are so few people hap∣py, is, because men make desires to themselves which Nature alone does not give them. What I say to you (added he) I say to my self, and against my self; since 'tis true that almost all men do not busie them∣selves only in seeking such things as they have need of, and are fit for them, but chiefly such as they believe the opinion of the world requires them to seek. So that without confining themselves to follow Reason alone, they desire to content that famous Chimera call'd Opinion, and mind more what will be said of them if they do not advance themselves above their Ancestors, than their own quiet. How many men are there which would be contented with the patrimony of their fathers, if they did not think that their rela∣tions, their neighbours, and all that knew them, would esteem them less in an indifferent than in a high for∣tune? and nevertheless these people who seek so much to content the opinion of others, desire a thing im∣possible. For Opinion is the most mutable thing in the world; and if you would know how different the opinions of men are, it needs only to oblige all that are present to make Wishes; and I am confident, if all those that compose this company, speak sincerely, you will observe so great a diversity of opinions a∣mongst them, that you know it is sufficiently difficult to be capable of happiness. But seeing there is so great a variety of sentiments (said Berelisa) how then can there be any certain opinion which is establisht in the world, and thence forth holds the place of a Law? 'Tis because the multitude of men (answer'd Amilcar) is so great, that there cannot be so great a number of contrary opinions as of men. So that such as resemble one another being united, there results from them a certain general opinion in every Nation, which prevails over the rest. But this does not hinder but that even they who compose this opinion have opinions in a manner peculiar to themselves. For my part (said Clidamira) I do not believe that if all the company were oblig'd to wish something, you would find so great a diversity of wishes as you imagine: for I am perswaded all the Ladies would wish for great beauty, and almost all the men to reign in some part of the world, and to be Kings. I do not agree to what you say (answer'd Amilcar) for as for my part, I speak sincerely, I would not be a King; and I should account it more noble to wish to be worthy to be one; besides, I know Royalty has a thousand con∣sequences enemies to liberty, which would strangely disgust me. For it must be had in mind, that Kings can never do any thing but what will be known, that the least of their actions is publick, that they can scarce ever discern those who love their condition from such as love their persons, that they seldom know the truth unless they divine it; that ceremony attends them every where; that they are always encompassed with self-interested flatterers; that they never have any great pleasures but openly, which to prudent persons are many times great troubles: not to reckon the cares requir'd to the well-governing of a State, or the shame there is in governing it ill. But, which chiefly makes me averse to be a King, is the thought, that it would ne∣ver be permitted me to be idle. And yet an idle life has something so sweet in it, that I could never resolve to renounce idleness, as I ought to do, to reign with glory. For if an idle Gallant were a King, and enjoy'd the same idleness, he would be a good-for-nought, un∣worthy of his dignity. Wonder not then, amiable Clidamira, if I am not of your mind. For my part (said Anacreon) if I may advise, every one of us shall wish something according to our inclinations, and we will leave Amilcar the liberty to condemn or approve the wishes we shall make; and after every one has de∣clar'd their wishes, he shall tell his own. I account this proposal of Anacreon a very agreeable motion (said Berelisa.) After which, all the company having ap∣prov'd it, Amilcar said he would do as he was desir'd; and turning himself towards a man of quality of Tar∣quinia, who was next him towards his right hand, he ask'd him what he wisht. To be as rich as I would (an∣swer'd he) for we have no desires but we may satisfie with riches. You should have added, (answer'd Amil∣car) to be rich without being covetous: for without this circumstance, your wish, in stead of rendring you happy, would render you the slave of your trea∣sures. For my part (said Clidamira) I am in haste to tell that I would wish to be without contradicti∣on the handsomest person in the world. You ought withal to have wish'd to be always such (answer'd Amilcar) for I think there is nothing more diffi∣cult than for a person that has been perfectly a Fair, to inure her self to bear contentedly the decay of her beauty: and besides, you wish a thing impossi∣ble, when you wish to be without contradiction the handsomest person in the world; for every body judges of beauty according to their particular fancie; so that none can be universally acknowledg'd for the handsomest person in the world: moreover, amiable Clidamira, you would have a reign of too few years; for the greatest beauty passes very swiftly away; and I account you more happy, to be infinitely charming, than to be infinitely handsome. You see (added he, smiling) I believe your words more than my own eyes; for if I gave credit to them, I should tell you that you enjoy what you wish'd, and are the hand∣somest person in the world. However it be (said she) if you please, ask Berelisa what she wishes. To be very well lov'd, and not to love at all, or not much (an∣swer'd she, beholding Clidamira.) Ha! charming Berelisa (answer'd Amilcar) you make the most un∣just wish in the world: for what pleasure would you have in being lov'd, if you did not love? consider therefore, I beseech you, and make a more equitable wish. For my part (said a man of condition of Valter∣ra, who had a pale countenance and a languishing air)

I should wish to be always in most perfect health. Your wish is assuredly very good (answer'd Amilcar) for health is the beginning of all pleasures: but when it is alone, 'tis a benefit we are not too sensible of, and sometimes serves only to cause us more ardently to wish all the other pleasures which we cannot enjoy. For my part (said one of his friends who was next him, and had the meen of a brave man) I should like well enough to be one of those subduers of Mon∣sters, like Hercules, who run through all the world with their swords in their hands, destroy Gyants, fight with Lyons, deliver ravisht Ladies, conquer Cities, relieve Kingdoms, and who though they travel with∣out train or equipage, never have need of any thing. This is no doubt sufficiently pleasant (answer'd Amil∣car) and if Herminius were here, he would be of this sentiment; for he loves to do good to all the world; and he hates injustice so much, that he would take great delight in causing equity to reign every where, without having need of any thing besides himself. But having well thought upon it; I find it sufficiently diffi∣cult; and he is not a subduer of Monsters that desires it, for all Monsters will not always suffer themselves to be subdu'd. As for me (said a Lady who had a very agreeable countenance and a melancholy air) I should wish to be always with persons whom I love, and never to see others. I perceive, Madam (said Amilcar to her) you cannot but have a tender heart, and I assure my self you would not have been sorry that these Verses had been made for you.

Let me my lovely Iris sighs but hear, And circumscribe all my desires in her; Let me in gentle peace with her abide, I care for nought the Sun surveys beside.

I confess it (answer'd she) for I know nothing so sweet as always to see what we love, and nothing so troublesome as scarce ever to see those who sensibly affect our hearts. I cannot say (reply'd Amilcar) but your wish is very agreeable; however, a little variety does very well. For my part (said Anacreon) I will include a thousand wishes in one, and wish to be sensible of all pleasures without exception, since without this life has no sweetness, the source of all pleasures being in the heart of those that receive them. For in vain should an excellent Musician sing, if his hearers have not delicate ears to understand him well. For my part (said Amilcar) I think it would have been better to desire to enjoy all pleasures, than to wish to be barely sensible or capable of them; but every one wishes according to his fancie. As for me (added Telantus) I am constrain'd to confess that I am sensible only of glory and pleasure, and between the two, if my Reason is for one, my heart is for the other; therefore not being able to determine my self, I would only desire nothing. This wish is very Philosophical (answer'd Amilcar) and one would think it were the most reasonable in the world; because he that desires nothing has need of no∣thing. But after having well consider'd it, I con∣clude that a man that should desire nothing, would pass his life in such excessive tranquillity, that it something approach near insensibility. Therefore this wish shall never be mine. As for me (said a person of the Country roughly, who had a quick imagination and a rude briskness) I should wish to have the best wit in the world. Alas! (answer'd Amilcar hastily) you know not well what you de∣sire, when you wish to be a fine wit; there is no∣thing more decry'd in the world at present, and I had rather be a slave than a rare wit. They that are such with judgment, conceal it; they who have not wherewith to support this Quality, are so impertinent in it, that except such as laugh at them, no body de∣sires their conversation. Not but that I consent with all my heart thereto if you are desirous to be such (added Amilcar, looking upon him who made this wish) and it is only requisite that you tell us what kind of fine wit you would be; for there some of the first order, others secundary; some of the Court, others of the City and the Country, and some fine wits too among the meaner people. Speak then if you please, to the end I may understand your wish, and know a little more precisely whether I ought to approve or condemn it. For being I am at this time Censor of the wishes of the Company, it be∣hoves me to acquit my self punctually of the Office. Amilcar spoke this with a certain serious air which caus'd all that heard him to laugh, and which so struck the poor wit out of countenance, that he an∣swer'd so softly as no body scarce heard his answer. Wherefore Amilcar turning towards a man of Peru∣sia of a handsome personage, ask'd him what he wisht? Not to be in love (answer'd he.) Believe me (re∣ply'd Amilcar roughly) you had better wish to be dead; for to speak truth, to live without Love is a very uncomfortable life. I believe that which you say (answer'd another man of Clusium) and I know it by experience; and therefore I would with all my heart be always amorous. But I have endeavour'd it these four years unprofitably, and I have su'd above a hun∣dred times to a person whom I once lov'd;

Give me my Love and my desires again, And I therewith my pleasures shall regain.

But he that is amorous (reply'd the other) cannot spend one day without discontent. But he that loves no∣thing (said the man of Clusium) is incapable of any sensible pleasure. Be it how it will (said Amilcar) I account the last wish more reasonable than the other; because the first over throws the order of the World, and opposes Nature which inspires Love into all the Universe. But to proceed (added Amilcar, addressing to a handsome Lady of Praeneste) What is your wish? To have many true Friends (answer'd she) for I imagine there is nothing so sweet. You should have desir'd (said Amilcar) that there were such, and then that you had them: therefore, if you believe me, desire rather to have many Lovers; for with those eyes of yours it will be easier for you to have Lovers than friends. But when we have Lovers (answer'd she) they forsake us. But when we believe we have Friends (reply'd Amil∣car) we find oftentimes that we have not; but to speak truth (added he) there is deceit in every thing. As for what concerns me (said another Lady) I would wish to see that which is in the hearts of all the world. No doubt there would be pleasure enough (answer'd Amilcar) in penetrating into the hearts of such as have an outside of wisdom, and a thousand follies hidden in their Souls; of those hypo∣crites who make semblance of having virtue, and make use of it only to hide their vices; of those coy Gossips in apparence who are unfaithful to their husbands; of those deceitful Friends, who intend to destroy those they Caress most; and of those

Wantons who have a thousand little Loves at a time: but withal you would see so many follies, wicked∣nesses, frauds, and treacheries, that I think it better to wish to know ones own heart well than those of others. For my part (said a man with a fierce aspect) I should wish to be the most valiant man in the world; And I to be the most eloquent (added another.) Elo∣quence and Valour (answer'd Amilcar) are two ex∣cellent things; but 'tis good to wish at the same time to know how they ought to be us'd; for to speak truth, they are a strange sort of people who under∣stand nothing but killing of men; and I am much of the sentiment of those of Agrigentum, who have a Proverbial saying amongst them, That Valour is like salt, good for nothing by it self, and yet good for al∣most all things. But as for Eloquence, it is not less necessary to know the right use of it: for an Eloquent person who declaims always in conversation is very troublesome; and as often as any one wishes Elo∣quence, he ought to remember to wish judgment with it. As for me (said a Greek who was present) I should much desire to write such excellent things as I might believe would descend to Posterity, and that with glory; and I am assur'd, if Anacreon who hears me would speak truth, he would confess that the thought of being one day translated into various Languages and commended in several Ages, is infinitely sweet to him. I assure you (answer'd Anacreon smiling) if you knew that pleasure by experience, you would not account it so great as you imagine; for at the same instant that I think perhaps my Works will live a long time, I think perhaps I shall not, but shall in∣fallibly live less than they. So that this chagrin strangely troubles the pleasure of this pretended im∣mortality. Anacreon is very equitable in speaking as he does (said Amilcar) for those pleasures are pro∣perly the pleasures of fancy; not but that I know well 'tis almost a general weakness to affect to have our names live; but to speak truth, upon a serious consideration 'tis but a folly: for cannot we judge by what is said of those that have written before us, what will be said after us of those that write at this time? 'Tis true, they are sometimes commended, but yet they are blam'd at least as much as they are prais'd. They are robb'd, and ill translated, and besides, though it were not so, what concernment can we take in things which shall happen when we are no longer con∣cern'd amongst the living? Believe me then, let us be contented with present pleasures, let us enjoy our glory whilst we live, let us seek to obtain the prai∣ses of such as are alive, and let us not care for being commended by people not yet in being, whom we know not and never can know. No doubt there are a thousand agreeable things in the Odes of Anacreon, which will not be understood two thousand years hence, because Manners, Customs, and Gallantry will be chang'd with the Ages. Nevertheless, I allow that people may by the by comfort themselves in some manner against Death, which the thought of having some priviledge above the Vulgar, and leaving a name which does not die with them; but let us not account this amongst the most exquisite pleasures, nor so affirmatively ascribe to our selves an imaginary immortality, which perhaps posterity will not give us: for I assure you, every one does not live in this manner who desires it, and many people think they write for immortality, whose works will die. As for me (said a very amiable Virgin who was sister to that Lady of Praeneste who had spoken before) I am confident my wish will please all the Company. Tell it quickly then (said Amilcar.) 'Tis to be invisible (answer'd she.) Ha! Madam (reply'd Amilcar) this is the first time no doubt that so fair a person as you made this wish. In good earnest (added she) I know nothing more agreeable than this. But what would you do with your invisibility? (said Amilcar smiling.) I would make use of it (answer'd she) to know the secrets of all the World, and especially to know truly what they who do not love me speak of me. As for my part (reply'd Amilcar) I have no cu∣riosity to know what my Enemies say, for I easily imagine it. But I confess to you, I should be ravisht to know that my Friends spoke of me in the same man∣ner when I am not with them as when I am. For ex∣perience has taught me, there are few people but upon some occasions make railery upon their Friends, or at least endure to hear it made in their presence. Yet this is very culpable (answer'd Berelisa.) But when we have Friends (said Clidamira) who have certain natural defects which cannot be conceal'd (as defor∣mity, or the like) what ought we to do? Never speak of them (answer'd Berelisa.) But if others speak of them (reply'd Clidamira) 'tis necessary to agree with them. When we cannot contradict them (answer'd Berelisa) we must blame them of injustire in accusing vertuous persons of defects not in their power to amend, rather than to commend them for a thousand good Qualities they are indu'd with: and thereupon we ought to take occasion to praise them, and exaggerate all that is commendable in them; for there is nothing more unworthy and unjust than to upbraid any one with his natural defects. However it be (said Amilcar) let us return to invi∣sibility, of which various uses may be made. One might thereby be present at all the Counsels of Kings, and Master of the secrets of all the world; and no∣thing besides the thoughts alone could escape the knowledge of an invisible person. It would be good in affairs of State and War, but chiefly in Gallantry; for we might deceive all Husbands, Mothers, Aunts, and Rivals: but being by ill hap, this wish is one of the most difficult wishes in the world to be accom∣plisht, let us see what the remainder of the Com∣pany wishes. For my part (said a man of Ardea, who was very rich and ingenious) I would wish to have no Envyers. You would then (answer'd Amilcar) have no vertue, be poor, deformed, and miserable; for whoever has good fortune, merit, and virtue, has Envyers infallibly. As for me (said an amiable person, who sate next Berelisa) I should wish more to be an accomplisht man than an accomplisht woman. As for this wish (answer'd Amilcar) I find nothing to say against it; for though women are infinitely more amiable than men, and I love them a thousand times better, yet, I judge, Madam, that you have wish'd very judiciously: for were there no other reason than that which allows us to use Courtship and Gallantry, and forbids it you, I should account your wish very just. For my part (added another Lady) I should like well of immortality. I am wholly of your mind (answer'd Amilcar) and this wish is the best of all; for it would be great pleasure to see the whole Universe continually change, being unalterable ones self. But to speak truth, this happi∣ness appears so impossible, that I have not the power to wish it; and all that I can say, is, that this immor∣tality is to be prefer'd to that of Writings. You have reason (reply'd a man who had the whole air

of a profess'd Scholar of which the world is full) therefore without wishing immortality which belongs to the Gods alone, I should wish only to be very learned, and to be able to understand all Nature. For there would be great pleasure in a perfect knowledge of the Sun, Moon, and Stars, in penetrating into the Centre of the Earth, there to the production of gold, in knowing the Qualities and Virtues of Minerals, Plants, Herbs, and being skill'd even in the knowledge of the least Cockles in the Sea, and the least Flies upon the Earth: great trees, shrubs, monsters, domestick Animals, Seas, Rivers, Brooks and Fountains, and to be ignorant of none of all Natures operations. That which you say is admirable (answer'd Amilcar) but though this wish is one of the best that can be made, yet it ought not to be abus'd. For I once knew a man, who understood as well as possible the situa∣tion and course of the Stars, who admirably knew Simples, who discours'd very well of the nature of Winds, who had observ'd that the salt of Agrigentum contrary to the manner of all other salt of the world, hardens in the Water, and melts in the Sun; that there are Pismires in certain Countries like Elephants; who discours'd very well of the Rainbow, who knew even the particularities of the love of Crocodiles; and who for all this, was a sottish man, his mind was always in Heaven, or the Abyss of the Earth, or the bottom of the Sea, to find out the secrets of Nature, and never was where it ought to be. He knew a hun∣dred thousand things which were not necessary, but knew not that his wife was a wanton; and in fine, he was ignorant in morality and the art of living decent∣ly in the world; which is a thousand times more ne∣cessary to be known than the love of Crocodiles. All the Company having laugh'd at what Amilcar said, some time pass'd without any wishing; but at length a very accomplisht man of Ceres said his wish was more reasonable than that of all the rest, since he wisht nothing but to be lov'd by that which he lov'd. This wish is very reasonable (answer'd A∣milcar) but being you seem sufficiently worthy to be lov'd, you might rather have made another wish, and left it to your merit to cause you to obtain that which you desire. As for me (said a sprightly young per∣son) I would wish to be able to live without sleep, for tis a great loss of time. I confess it (answer'd Amilcar) but however, though all the World sleeps every day, yet they have time enough to be weary, and therefore sleep, if you will take my Counsel. But that you may sleep with pleasure (added he smi∣ling) and have delightful Dreams, suffer an accom∣plisht man who does not displease you, to say to you every day, I love you, and no doubt you will find no cause to complain of sleep more. For my part (said a man of good years) I should greatly desire to be a wise Law-giver, like Solon, Lycurgus, Zamolxis, and divers others. This wish is something commend∣able (answer'd Amilcar) but I confess, if I were a great and illustrious Maker of Laws, I should have great regret in foreseeing that infallibly they would be ill observ'd; for there is such a great perversness amongst men, that as soon as a Law is made, all that ought to follow it, seek only how to infringe it with impunity. And besides, to speak truth, I account it more glorious to obey the Law than to have made it; for it is much easier to command in such occasions than to obey; and moreover 'tis a general maxime, that good actions are worth more than good words. After this, there remain'd only Amilcar and the old Tuscan Soothsayer who had wishes to make. But this venerable old man would make no wish at all, and said men were too blind to know what good was fit for them: after which he continu'd to hear attentively what was said in the Company. It was then requir'd of Amilcar to make his wish as others had done. I will (answer'd he) but I must first see whether all the Company have wish'd: and so he taking writing-Tables, he set down on one side all the wishes of the Ladies, and on the other all those of the men, in this manner.

The Wishes of the Ladies.

To be the handsomest Person in the world. To be extremely lov'd, and not love at all, or very little. To be always with Persons one loves, and to converse with no others. To see what is in the hearts of all the World. To be invisible. To be an accomplisht man in stead of being an accomplisht woman. To be immortal. To be able to live without sleep.

The Wishes of the Men.

To be a King. To be as rich as one would. To be always in health. To be a subduer of Monsters like Hercules, and a Deliverer of Kingdoms and ravish'd Ladies. To be sensible of all pleasures without ex∣ception. To desire nothing. To be the best Wit in the World. Not to be amorous. To be always in love. To be the most valiant man in the World. To be the most eloquent. To be the author of ingenious composures which may descend to posterity. To have no Enviers. To be very Learned. To be lov'd by whom we love. To be a wise Law-giver.

When Amilcar had writ down all these Wishes, he first counted them, and then the whole company, and found there was none but himself to wish: where∣fore being much urg'd to speak, he answer'd, that it was not a thing to be done with precipitation: for since (said he) the business is to make a Wish, I will

make one so great, that imagination cannot go beyond it, for to think to desire one thing which may suffice to render a man happy, is a strange mistake. Therefore to make a handsome Wish, I will make a handsome story, and tell you in particular how I would be if I were master of my Destiny and events. Assu∣redly (said Clidamira) he is going to wish to be lov'd by an hundred thousand fair persons at once. Pardon me, Madam (answer'd Amilcar) I am not; and I de∣clare to you, that I renounce my debonair humor for an hour only, and am going to speak sincerely to you, and in the greatest earnestness in the world. Know then, that for a more noble reason than that I menti∣on'd at the beginning of this conversation, though I could dispose my lot as I pleas'd, I would not be born a King: for I account it no great glory to do no more but succeed a father, and I think it is something more sweet for a man to be the builder of his own grandeur, and to owe nothing but to himself. You would then be a conqueror (reply'd Clidamira) which many times signifies an Usurper. By no means (said Amilcar) and I have at present a greater fancy than that: but I beseech you suffer me to speak, my friend, and then let the company judge of my Wish. Know then, I would be neither King nor conquering Usurper; but as for birth, I would be of a Royal race, and that the changes which arrive successively in the world, had my family, and left me scarce any other advantage besides nobility of bloud; I would be also descended of vertuous Parents, and be indu'd with great vertue my self. I confess too I would be a hand∣some personage, have a noble air, a happy physio∣gnomy, and a very high aspect. As for Wit, I would have an infinite portion, but especially of that of the chief order, capable of great things, of governing Na∣tions, counselling Kings, and knowing all the interests of Monarchies, the means to manage great Wars, and the art of grand Negotiations, of penetrating into the secrets of all hearts; and above all, I would have the faculty of perswading, which is almost the most neces∣sary of all, for one that is in the highest imployments. I would also in the beginning of my life go to the War, and give proofs of my courage: and to raise my self a reputation on the sudden, I would have For∣tune by some extraordinary way cause me to be be∣tween two Armies ready to joyn Battel; and that for the first essays of my address and eloquence, I had the pleasure to cause these two enemy-Armies to lay down their Arms, and the glory to establish peace between two great Princes. In the next place, I would wish there were a Kingdom which were the sanctuary of the Sciences and excellent Arts, in which there were a great and excellent Minister, who by a thousand glori∣ous actions had merited the admiration of all the earth, to the end that being lov'd and esteem'd by him, I might of a sudden come to be consider'd in that great state. Moreover, I should take an extreme pleasure (if the Gods pleas'd that he di'd before me) that he left me to the King his Master as a faithful servant, and capable of assisting him to support the burden of af∣fairs: and, to complete my happiness, I would that that King at his death left me the government of the young Prince which were to succeed him, together with that of the whole State. But to signalize my Government the more, I would have a great War to manage; and that shortly after the death of the King, there were divers Cities taken, and many Battels won. Yet I would not have Fortune always favourable to me, and have none but easie successes, and without obstacles. On the contrary, I would see my Victo∣ries on a sudden interrupted by some great Insurrecti∣on of the people: I would, I say, that the Commo∣tion beginning in the heart of the State, I saw almost the whole Kingdom risen against me, and had a foreign and a civil War to manage at once. But in making this Wish, I would at the same time perfectly under∣stand the art to yield sometimes to the Tempest, there∣by to save the Ship from perishing; and be able to re∣establish a general calm, and cause the young Prince I serv'd to reign with glory, without employing that bloudy policy which is always follow'd with terrour and dread. But after I had calm'd this great storm within the State, I would win a thousand new advan∣tages over the foreign enemies, take many important Cities, and gain divers Battels; and then to crown all these grand actions with the most heroick action that ever was, I would after so many happy successes form the design of a Peace upon the field of Victory. But the more agreeably to surprise all the earth, I would make a great secret of this important negotiation, which should pass only between my self and the Mini∣ster of the King against whom the War was; and at length, when the Nations durst scarce hope a Peace, they should understand it was made. But for the conclu∣sion of this peace, I would not be unwilling to be a while in some small Island conferring with the Minister of the enemies; to the end I might in that place see Nations, Princes and Kings await with ardency the re∣solutions which should be taken in that little corner of earth. Moreover, I would corroborate this Peace by a happy Marriage of the young King I serv'd, and a fair Princess daughter of the enemy-King; that so thence∣forth I might see peace, plenty and pleasures return to∣gether, establish safety both on Land and Sea, reconcile to the interests of the State some illustrious Heroe whom Fortune had separated from them, and finally render the whole world happy. And to accomplish my own felicity, I would not marry at all, but I would there were a State in the world where the Prince reign'd by the election of the greatest and the wisest; and that I were advanc'd to that place, to reign there all the rest of my life. But I would also that that Soveraignty had some kind of authority over all others, and that I had power then to continue peace amongst all the Kings of the world. Thus not being born a King, I should reign innocently, and boast of having enjoy'd glory in all the different manners it can be possest.

Ah! Amilcar (cry'd the old sage Soothsayer, who had scarce spoken before) it belongs to you only to wish; I think you are inspir'd by heaven: for having consulted the Lots, to know what will be the destiny of Rome now Tarquin is expell'd thence, I have found that it will one day be subject to a man of the same name with one of the first ancestors of Romulus, to such a man as you desire to be, who shall be descended from the ancient Kings of Sicily. But this will not come to pass till a long time after Rome shall have been a tri∣umphant Common-wealth, and shall have been once again govern'd by Soveraigns, amongst which ma∣ny Heroes shall be counted, This man spoke thus with such Majestie, that himself seem'd really inspir'd, and his discourse made such an impression upon the minds of all that heard him, that they doubted not but what he said would one day be accomplish'd; and all the company confess'd that it was not possible to wish any thing more great and glorious, and that all their own wishes together deserv'd not to be compar'd to the destiny of that great man.

But whilst they were speaking thus, the old Sooth∣sayer sate down again in his place, and return'd to his ordinary silence, without concerning himself longer in what the company discours'd of, which soon after broke up and retir'd. The next morning Amilcar went to the Temple of Fortune, of which he admir'd the beauty and magnificence. In divers parts of this Temple, this Goddess was seen represented in many various manners, and all round about it were seen great Tables in which all the events she uses to cause were pourtray'd, sometimes advancing the little, and depressing the great. In one place destroying Em∣pires, in another founding Kingdoms, and appearing always very powerful and capricious. Amilcar guided by an old Priest, saw also a certain place at the bottom of the Temple, where through a door of grates he was shew'd a statue of Iupiter in his childhood sitting with Juno between the arms of Fortune, to which marry'd women paid great devotion. He was told that here∣tofore a man of great vertue was inspir'd to go break a huge stone, which after long deferring he did, though all the world laugh'd at him; and that he had no sooner touch'd the stone, but miraculously a great breach was made in it, at which issued forth the famous Lots which decide the Destinies of men. He was also told, that at the same time there was an Olive∣tree from whence issu'd forth abundance of honey; from which Omens the Soothsayers foretold that these Lots would become very famous. It was added too, that the Soothsayers caus'd a Coffer to be made of that Olive-tree, wherein to inclose the Lots, which were nothing but a great number of little Oaken Tablets, ingrav'd with several distinct words in anci∣ent Characters. But I beseech you (said Amilcar to him he convers'd with) what course do they take to consult these Lots? First, a Sacrifice is offer'd to For∣tune (said he who instructed Amilcar) to request her to forget all the reproaches the persons have spoken against her; for it is presuppos'd men are so unjust, that there is not one, even of those to whom she gives most of the favours which are in her power, but some∣times in his life complains of her. 'Tis true (an∣swer'd Amilcar) there is no Deity towards whom respect is so often lost, as this; and for my part, I confess, I have utter'd reproaches against her in four or five Languages, both in Verse and in Prose, and so I have great need of the Sacrifice you speak of. But what further is to be done, to consult the Lots? I have already told you (answer'd the other) that they are kept in a Coffer made of the Sacred Olive-tree I mention'd, and I shall add that this Coffer is plac'd at the feet of that Statue of Fortune which embraces young Iupiter, and that after the person has signifi'd what he desires to know, a young Boy draws at a ven∣ture several of these Tablets upon which the distinct words are written. After which, the Child having placed them in a row, the Soothsayer who is to unfold the Lots, reads them, and there finds the sence which he unfolds, but with such exactness that it is mira∣culous.

Amilcar having thank'd him that had so well instru∣cted him, observ'd that the Temple was divided by a great Balustrade or Rail; on one side of which were all the men, and on the other all the women, and at the upper end stood two Priests who writ the names of such as intended to consult the Lots concerning their Fortune. Now whereas Telantus had promis'd A∣milcar to give him an account whether Mutius would cause his name to be written, he did not stay to behold the men, but only the Ladies to whom he might speak any thing over the Balustrade, it not be∣ing forbidden to speak in this Temple when the Sa∣crifice was not in hand. Wherefore he set himself to consider the number of fair Strangers whom he saw in that place: and being he stood somewhat near him who inquir'd and writ down the names, he could hear those which they pronounc'd; so that after having heard a very great number, he beheld a lovely Wo∣man who arrested his eyes agreeably; and thereupon giving her ear, he heard that she was nam'd Aretaphile; and that she said she was of the Principality of Elis; for they are oblig'd to tell what Countrey they are of. Be∣ing desirous then to have some conversation with her, he observ'd she went and plac'd her self by the Ba∣lustrade about ten paces from him; and so he chang'd his station and went to salute her very civilly. I be∣seech you, Madam (said he to her in Greek) be pleas'd to give me liberty to ask you news of the Princess Elismonda, and I desire you tell me whether she be still as fair as she was on the day she gave the prizes at the Olympick Games. That Princess is still so young (answer'd Aretaphile) that her beauty can∣not be diminished; and so I can assure you, she was never more fair and charming, and when I came away she was at a fair house belonging to the Prince of Elis, which is call'd the Valley of Cupids. After this Amilcar obtain'd the permission of this fair person to go and visit her. But when he turn'd his head, he was much astonisht to see Lucilius, Hermi∣nius, Aemilius, and Spurius entering into the Tem∣ple; for when he departed from Rome, they made no account to go to Praeneste. He approacht towards them, and understood that Lucilius was sent by Por∣senna to consult the Lots of Praeneste concerning the present state of affairs; and he learnt by Herminius, that Aemilius, Spurius, and himself being upon the point to have a Quarrel, Publicola had hinder'd them from fighting, and engag'd them to come to this place, declaring to them nevertheless, that he left Valeria ab∣solute Mistress of her own destiny, and that he was so confident she would chuse equitably, that he be∣liev'd the Gods would approve his choice and make their will known. After this these New-comers went to cause their names to be written; but at the same time Amilcar beheld a man of a good personage and in mourning attire enter into the Temple, and observ'd that Clidamira chang'd colour thereat, and Berelisa seem'd amaz'd to see him. In effect it was Meleontus, who having pass'd through Rome to see the Prince Artemidorus was come to Praeneste, and accordingly caus'd his name to be written. Next, Amilcar beheld the jealous Damon with Acrisius; for Sicinius would not consult the Lots at Praeneste. But at length when this great number of Strangers of both Sexes had caus'd their names to be written, a Sacrifice was of∣fer'd by way of preparation to know the secrets of Fate the next day. As they were going out of the Temple, Telantus advertis'd Amilcar that the wicked Tullia had sent a man with great sums of money to corrupt him that was to expound the Lots, and cause him to give Lucilius such an answer as might perswade Porsenna to put Aronces and Clelia to death; but he assur'd him at the same time that nothing was to be fear'd, and that he to whom the address was made was a man of the most firm probity in the world. Amil∣car trembled at this wickedness of Tullia, but he hop'd to draw advantage from it. He acquainted Hermi∣nius with the matter, and having understood by

Telantus that Mutius did not present himself at the Temple, he went to the lodgings of Clidamira and Berelisa, where Meleontus arriv'd a moment after, for he did not think fit to accost them as they were going out of the Temple. Assoon as he enter'd, Be∣relisa askt him for whom he wore mourning. For the Prince of Leontium, Madam (answer'd he.) How (reply'd Clidamira wholly surpris'd) is the Prince of Leontium dead? He is certainly (said Meleontus) but with so great regret for not having well enough treated Artemidorus and the Princess Lysonice, that he commanded me at his death to come and testifie his last sentiments to them. And accordingly I came to Rome to obey him, and to conjure the Prince Ar∣temidorus to go and take possession of his Principa∣lity, to forget all things past, and to be my Protector. As he is very generous (added he) he has granted me all I desir'd of him, and charg'd me with two Letters which I deliver to you. In speaking this Me∣leontus gave one Letter of Artemidorus to Clidamira, and another to Berelisa. They both blusht as they receiv'd them, and could not refrain from beholding one another with an air a little jealous. But Berelisa's doubts excited by jealousie were soon dispell'd; for the Letter of the Prince Artemidorus was conceiv'd in these terms.

Artemidorus to Berelisa.

THough the Prince my Brother had ill-trea∣ted me, I am notwithstanding much af∣fected with his death: but now, Madam, that the Gods have given me power to testifie to you how much I love you, I declare to you that I will not reign at Leontium but with you, and no other shall ever reign in my heart. I have writ to Clidamira in such a strain as will cure you of all your unjust jealousies. How∣ever, I desire you to promote Meleontus interest with her; he has so well deported himself since the prince's death, that he deserves that you and I forget all the mischief he has done us. I beseech you, return to Rome assoon as you can; that when we have seen what will be the desti∣ny of Aronces, I may go and cause you to be ac∣knowledg'd princess of Leontium.

As Berelisa read this Letter, joy diffus'd it self from her eyes over all her countenance; and Clida∣mira, as she read hers, could not contain from blush∣ing with choler; for it was almost in these words.

Artemidorus to Clidamira.

YOu have reason, Madam, to have made choice of Meleontus for the object of your affection; therefore I will do him what service I can to gain your favour towards him. I have understood from his mouth what I knew before, that he is not so unacceptable to you but that he may hope to be happy if I protect him. I do so, Madam, and desire of you for him all the favours he is worthy of. I have formerly complain'd of it, and now I rejoyce at it; but there arrive so many other changes, that this ought not to surprize you. His fortune is suffi∣ciently good, to render yours happy. Do not therefore resist his affection and my requests; but believe I can never be more oblig'd to you than I shall be, if you reward his affection in the manner I desire.

Clidamira made as if she read this Letter over again, but in truth, she only took time to calm the trouble of her mind, and to deliberate what she should do. During which she concluded that Berelisa was going to be Princess of Leontium, and that Artemidorus being fully perswaded that she had had a beginning of Courtship with Meleontus, no longer believ'd that it was only for his sake, as she had endeavour'd to per∣swade him: Wherefore, considering that if she re∣jected Meleontus she would be without all support, and being an admirable dissembler, she recollected her self suddenly, and beholding Meleontus with an aspect something confus'd but not at all rude, The Prince speaks so obligingly of you (said she to him) that it is manifest he will obtain what he desires; but however we shall speak of it at a little more leisure. In the mean time Herminius and Amilcar were speaking to Berelisa, who shew'd them Artemidorus's Letter, as being her dearest Friends at Rome. So that they were very joyful to see that Fortune had at length done justice to her merit. But after Meleontus, Her∣minius, and Amilcar were gone away, Clidamira not being able to suppress her sentiments, I imagine (said she to Berelisa) you care no longer for consulting the Lots of Praeneste, and the Prince's Letter has given you whatever you account agreeable to your desires. 'Tis true (answer'd Berelisa) Artemidorus's Let∣ter is such as I could desire, but I conceive that which you have received ought not to displease you; for, to give you what you made choice of, is as I con∣ceive to do all that can be acceptable to you. Being you are yet but my sister in Law (reply'd Clidamira) and not Princess of Leontium, I must once in my life speak plainly to you, before I be oblig'd to bear you a respect which will not allow me to offend you.—But, no (added she) the manifestation of my anger will but augment your joy, and therefore I change my mind, and will never more speak to you of Ar∣temidorus, whom I will endeavor to hate, or at least not to love longer. As I can never cease to consider you as the wife of my Brother (said Berelisa) I will answer you without passion. Joy wonderfully swee∣tens the mind (answer'd Clidamira) and you have not been always so gentle when you were disconten∣ted. But however (added she, as she was going from her into a Closet in the same Chamber) if I can∣not be contented, I will at least make such shew of being so, that perhaps you who are really so, shall not seem so much. Berelisa smil'd at Clidamira's passi∣on, and went into the Chamber which was assign'd to her.

The next morning Amilcar diligently enquir'd for Mutius, and could learn no tidings of him; only he understood that there was an unknown person who had sent to desire the favour that his name might not be written amongst the rest, but to be heard last, when

the whole Ceremony of the multitude was finish'd; which could not be done in one day, there being too great a number of people this year in Praeneste. At break of day the Temple of Fortune was open, and two hours were by favour allotted for such as would cause their names to be written in order to consulting the Lots, during which the Temple was fill'd with people to hear a kind of Hymn sung by a very excel∣lent voice to the glory of Fortune. Whilst this was doing, a certain noise was heard about the Gate. Amilcar who had an universal curiosity turn'd his head and beheld a little Machine painted, gilded, and cover'd with a kind of little Canopy. It was sur∣rounded with Curtains, and carried by two slaves. Upon the top of this Canopy was the Pourtraict of a young and handsome man. He had a round Visage, blew eyes, neat, and agreeable, a carnation, and fresh Complexion, and a cheerful and sprightly as∣pect. At the bottom of this Pourtraict were seen these Verses:

Youthful and fair, this Picture courts your eye. Youthful and fair as this, so once was I. But envious Fate (by whose severe decree, No happiness can great and lasting be) So chang'd both face and body; there remains Of both but one dire Magazine of pains. A thousand ills my vexed limbs distort, But I unmov'd sustain their rude effort. And though confin'd in this sad place I lie, Yet round the spacious Globe my name doth flie.

The novelty of this Machine having surpriz'd all the Assembly, two Priests at the Gates of the Temple would have hindred the slaves that carried it, from pas∣sing, and requir'd him that was within it to descend and enter into the Temple. But a moment after, the Curtains were seen to open a little, and a voice some∣thing shrill but impetuous was heard to speak thus, No, no (said this Unknown) do not go about to cause me to descend, for 'tis in vain; and as people of high quality are seen to enter in Chariots into the Courts of Kings Palaces, so I have the priviledge to enter into the Chambers of Queens and Temples; for that you may know me well, I am the prime sick person in the World, and he alone that has been able to reconcile pain with joy. The Unknown spoke this with so fierce a tone, that he silenc'd the Priests, and they suffer'd the Machine to enter, which drew the eyes of the whole Assembly. But indeed a moment after, it was minded no more; because there ap∣pear'd a person so infinitely fair, that she attracted the general view. It was known by the livery of the slaves who follow'd her that she was the Wife of him that was in the Machine. She was young, ad∣mirably fair, and of a good stature; her name was Lyriana, she was of very noble Birth, and Fortune having been adverse to her Parents, she was in her infancy led by them into the remotest parts of Libya; from whence she return'd so fair and charming, that scarce any could be compar'd to her without doing her injury. Lyriana was tall and well proportion'd, but of that tallness which does not affright, but only adds to the grace of the person. She had a very clear and smooth Complexion, her hair was of a bright and agreeable chesnut, her Nose was well shap'd, and her Mouth well cut, she had a Noble, sweet, spright∣ly, and Majestical air; and to render her beauty more perfect and charming, she had the handsomest Eyes in the world, for they were black, sparkling, sweet, passionate, and full of spirit; their brightness had something I know not what, which cannot be express'd; a sweet melancholy sometimes appear'd in them amongst all her charms, yet mirth was visi∣ble in them at times, with all the attractives which joy can inspire. As for her mind, it seem'd made correspondent to her beauty; she spoke with a good grace naturally, and without affection. Yet her beauty though transcendent, made her not vain and proud: but joyning the charms of her vertue to those of her beauty and Wit, it might be said she deserv'd all the admiration which was had of her when she en∣ter'd into the Temple of Fortune. Amilcar was charm'd as soon as he beheld her, carefully inquir'd of those next him the name of this fair person, who was so advantageously spoken of to his. As for him that has married her (added he) I ask •••• news of him, for I do not doubt but he in the Machine is the famous Scaurus, who from a very goodly person in his youth, has been so chang'd by sicknesses that he cannot be known for the same man, and who by the pleasant∣ness of his humor and the firmness of his mind makes health to himself in spight of Nature, and preserves a joy which has render'd him capable of writing a thousand sprightly and divertising Composures, which serve for the pleasure of the illustrious Cleonymus and all accomplisht persons; and lastly, whose conversa∣tion is sought by a great number of Honorable people who frequent his house. 'Tis the very same (an∣swer'd one of those Amilcar was talking to) he lives at Clusium, where all illustrious Strangers go to visit him, as well as all the Persons of Quality of that Court. But, which is remarkable, he is never at a loss for subjects to divert himself and others. And whether he commends or blames, he always does it pleasantly, and with as much facility as wit. He con∣firms what you say of his merry humor (reply'd A∣milcar) by coming in his Machine into the Temple of Fortune: but to speak truth, I am very desirous to know what he will consult the Lots about. After this Amilcar beheld the slaves who carried the Ma∣chine, set it down before the Priest who writ the names. And then a slave drawing a curtain which hid Scaurus, it was seen that he did not at all resemble his Picture; and nevertheless, through all the altera∣tion that had befallen him, he seem'd still to have a certain laughing air which promis'd Wit. But, in fine, having caus'd his own name to be writ, and that of the fair Lyriana, he pull'd down his Curtain, and was carried away again in his Machine; for the two hours were just by this time expir'd; so that it behov'd all the multitude to go forth of the Temple, to the end the Answers might be render'd with more secrecy. The names of those which were written being to be drawn at a venture, it hapned that Porsenna's name was drawn first, to consult the Lots; and the order being so, that the explication of the Lot was deliver'd only to such as were concern'd in the business, this explication was deliver'd seal'd to Lucilius after all the Tablets which the child drew and ranked at a ven∣ture had been well consider'd.

Next, the names of Berelisa and Clidamira were drawn; and the old Soothsayer who had been present at the conversation of Wishes, and expounded the Lots of Praeneste this year, spoke these very words to Clidamira:

You shall be happier by your indifferent humor than any other thing: for being you have never known how to love with stedfastness, therefore you have no reason to expect to be lov'd con∣stantly: but such as determine themselves to none, are always moderately afflicted, and never to be much pitied.

Clidamira had some indignation at this Answer, but a moment after her own humor appeas'd her, and caus'd her to say that it was all one to her whether she ow'd her contentment to her indifference or to any thing else. As for Berelisa, the Soothsayer spoke to her after another sort.

I have scarce any thing to speak to you (said he to her) for 'tis easie for you to foresee your destiny: your Constancy is ready to be crown'd, and you are going to reign in one of the most de∣lightful Cities of the world, and in one of the most generous hearts that ever was.

In the next place, Theanor and Aemilius (whose names were written together) ask'd what their desti∣ny was to be. He who gave answers, said to them,

Marry them who love you, though you love not them; and beware of marrying them whom you love, being they do not love you: for accord∣ing to all apparences, you will at length love those which have lov'd you so long time, and perhaps you will not always love those you do, if they can never love you.

Theanor and Aemilius were amaz'd, and seem'd alike dejected at this Answer; and so they retir'd with sufficient sadness, and made way for several others who follow'd them. After which, that fa∣mous Lyar (whom Berelisa, Clidamira and Anacre∣on knew, and whose Lyes had occasion'd a long con∣versation at Rome amongst divers ingenious per∣sons) presented himself, and ask'd whether it were pos∣sible there could be one man in the world who were always veracions. But as if the Gods had been of∣fended, the Sooth-sayer having observ'd the Lots ac∣cording to custom, answer'd him in these terms:

Rash man, who seekest to excuse thy self with the faults of others, know, that for the punish∣ment of thy continual Lyes, thou shalt not be believ'd even when thou speakest truth. This is all which the Lots of Praeneste can answer thee, which will not so dishonour all men, as to make it credible that sincere truth is scarce found upon earth.

Next, Herminius, Aemilius and Spurius enquiring of their Destinies, receiv'd such an Answer:

The first-lov'd ought always to be the last∣lov'd, unless he have render'd himself unwor∣thy of being so: should it be otherwise, there would be five persons unhappy, and in the for∣mer manner but three. Moreover, it shall come to pass that Aemilius shall be satisfied with his own vertue, Spurius cur'd by his anger, and Mutius comforted with his glory.

This answer caus'd a very sensible joy to Hermi∣nius, and much afflicted Aemilius and Spurius; and this latter beginning to speak, The Lots of Praeneste have given a true decision (said he fiercely) for I begin already to resent such a horrible indignation, that I doubt not but hatred will cure me of my love. Which said, he went away with a very incensed as∣pect. But Herminius, who always lov'd Aemilius, spoke to him with much generosity. You see (said he to him) the will of the Gods cannot be withstood. 'Tis true (answer'd Aemilius) and I see too that I must be always miserable; and not being able to find a remedy in hatred as Spurlus does, since generosity obliges me not to hate my Rival or my Mistress, I must seek one in death. You will do better (reply'd Herminius) to seek it in the amity of a generous Friend, and in that of a faithful Friend, who is ex∣tremely sorry he cannot be happy but by rendring you miserable. Whilst these two Rivals were discoursing in this manner, Meleontus desiring to know whether he should be happy, receiv'd this answer:

Whoso would always have ambition and love together, it is absolutely impossible for him ever to be happy; for it is not in the power of For∣tune to content a Lover and an Ambitious man in one single person.

After this the multitude of Strangers which were at Praeneste continu'd enquiring what they desir'd to know. But for that Amilcar was not concern'd there longer, after he had congratulated with Herminius for the happy answer he receiv'd, he went to enter∣tain himself with that Lady of Elis whom he had spo∣ken to the preceding day, and who was walking in a place beset with great Trees before the Temple of Fortune, expecting till she should be call'd to go sig∣nifie what she desir'd: for the order was, that there should be none in the Temple at that time but they to whom answers were given, all the rest in the mean time attended in that place, whom a young priest came to the door of the Temple to call according to the order of their names. Wherefore Amilcar addres∣sing to Aretaphile, askt her if he might presume to enquire the cause which brought her to Praeneste, ad∣ding that he believ'd it fit to do in this place as those do who go to the Spaws, who scruple not to pretend maladies however which carri'd them thither. I as∣sure you (said she to him) I never yet had any secret which I could not tell, and it will be easie for me to satisfie you. Know then, that being one at the Valley of Cupids with the Princess Elismonda—Hold, I beseech you (cry'd Amilcar) and let me not pass from the Valley of Cupids without making some stay there. Tell me therefore I conjure you whether this place de∣serves so fair a name, and wherefore it is called so. No doubt it deserves it (answer'd she) but it has not al∣ways born this name; for it was sometimes call'd Te∣lisangis; but a great Prince having caus'd a stately Palace to be built there to give to his Mistress, it was from thence call'd the Valley of Cupids; because Love

was in effect the occasion that it was built. This cir∣cumstance seems so extraordinary (reply'd Amilcar) that I cannot but conjure you to make me the descri∣ption of a place which seems to have been consecrated to love, and where a second Mother of Cupids is seen; for according to the reports of the Princess Elismonda, she is a person fit to produce such. I will content you (said Aretaphile) though I am not very good at making the description of a handsome place. Know then that the Valley of Cupids is a place of such parti∣cular beauty, that it may with truth be said that it has a thousand charms which cannot be found elsewhere. Yet its situation is wild and solitary; but though Nature have not given it the like advantage with places which have prospects of a vast extent, and lie near great Rivers, yet it has a thousand graces which ren∣der it an infinitely delightful habitation. This Valley is very fertile, and the place which I am going to de∣scribe to you, is perfectly magnificent and agreeable. It is situated upon the brow of a Hill which to make the first Court of this house. The ways which lead to this Palace are admirably fair, for a Royal Forest is to be pass'd through, the great and hand∣some Wastes of which make the goodliest and most solitary Walks in the World; especially in a certain place where the Trees seem to reach up to Heaven, they are handsome, straight, and so thick set with ver∣dant leaves that their shade is infinitely agreeable. As you arrive at the Valley of Cupids you find a very fair fore-court which has a face of rustick edifices on the right hand, and a balustrade on the left, from whence is discover'd an agreeable Valley. From thence you pass into another Court which has the same Balu∣strade on the left hand and a Walk of Trees on the right. From this place you see the stately front of the Palace which is of a particular structure; the middle advances towards the Court, as well as the two sides of this building, all the Windows whereof are great arches which made a goodly sight; and on the side of the terass'd Garden, the face of which resembles that of the Court, are seen two Cupids without fillets which seem to consider all the beauties of the prospect. But to return to the Court from whence I have led aside your fancie, I must tell you that you ascend from it by a proud perroon up to a great and magnificent terrass with a Balustrade which runs quite round the Palace, all the apartments of which are stately, and the stair-case which is in the midst of the building is of ve∣ry great magnificence. There are great Halls pav'd with black and white Marble, very fair Chambers and delightful Cabinets; in one and the same apartment there are convenient places both for heat and cold, conversation and study. For there is a Cabinet from whence is seen not only a pleasant Valley environ'd with little Hills which rather arrest the sight than bound it, but also a great Garden, the squares of which are divided by rivulets which cross one another, so that the midst of the Garden instead of being a∣dorn'd with a Statue, like most others, has a Bridge in it made in fashion of a Cross, which makes the love∣liest sight in the World. The rivulet opposite to the building continues between two handsome Groves of equal greatness, which makes an admirable shew. For the Groves being green from the bottom to the top, and reflecting in that amiable rivulet; whose banks are cover'd with grass, there is nothing seen but verdure and water, which renders the place so fit to muse in, that the most indifferent cannot refrain from it. But besides all this, on the right and left side of these two lovely Groves are seen two Meadows surrounded with Brooks and border'd with Willows, which make an admirable object. Beyond which is seen on the right hand a Town among the Trees, and on the left a Village, little Hills of unequal height, other Meadows and a little corner of a plain. But I should be too tedious to you if I should describe to you all the various beauties of this place, and therefore I shall omit them, and tell you that the admirable per∣son which inhabits this rare Desart is become infinite∣ly more amiable and charming than she was when she gave the prizes at the Olympick-Games, for she has improv'd in fatness, and has a clearer complexion, and her mind also is more embellish'd; so that 'tis not possible even for the most averse from love to see her now without loving her; and therefore the Prince of Elis who is a person undoubtedly worthy of all sorts of happiness, loves her always very constantly. Ha! Madam (cry'd Amilcar) if I knew as well how to de∣scribe to my Mistress the torments which I endure, as you describe the Valley of Cupids, I should be less unhappy than I am. But being I believe you relate all things alike well, tell me I beseech you, what has brought you hither. I will satisfie you (answer'd A∣retaphile) Know then I was one day at the Valley of Cupids with some Ladies my Friends, who had a cu∣riosity to see that house; and as such divertisements use not to be without the company of some vertuous persons to conduct the Ladies, there were two very accomplisht men in ours, though they were not much known to me, but came attending one of the Ladies. You must know, also that they lov'd two Virgins which were of this company; but for that they would do like discreet Lovers, they talkt as much to me as to their Mistresses. But I cannot tell you how it came to pass, but I pleas'd them well enough that day. As for this particular (said Amilcar) you may dispense with it, for I see in your eyes wherewith you touch'd their hearts; and if mine were as it us'd to be, and were not resolv'd to be constant, it would be yours already. Since 'tis so (answer'd Aretaphile smiling) I will only tell you that without designing it, I caus'd these two Lovers to prove unfaithful; yet I did not perceive it at that time, but some days after all the Town came and told me two men had forsaken their Mistresses and lov'd me. Wherefore making more narrow observation, I saw it was true, and found my self incumbred at the same time with the love of two men whom I did not affect, and the hatred of two Vir∣gins whom I did not hate. Yet I thought then, that there needed only a little of my severity to return these un∣faithful Lovers back again to their Mistresses. But be∣ing (as I conceive) they did not forsake them but only because they were two of those good persons whose excessive gentleness cloys rather than diverts, my se∣verity augmented their Love. Since that, I confess without vanity, I have been lov'd by divers others; But I must acknowledge, never by any man whom I could believe worthy of my love. Yet I confess too that I saw a passenger at Syracusa whom I could love, and whom I judge perfectly worthy to be lov'd. But he has not lov'd me, and never will; for according to all probabilities, we shall never see one another again as long as we live. Ah! Madam (said Amil∣car) may I not presume to ask you what manner of person it was whom you could love? I will content you (answer'd she) for I assure you I always take de∣light in speaking of him. Know then, the illustrious Cleander (so is he call'd that pleases me) is of one of

the most illustrious families of the Kingdom where he lives, which has maintain'd it self most gloriously in repute, either by the great actions of such as have been descended of it, or by illustrious alliances. He is tall, and of a good proportion, he has also been ad∣mirably handsome in his first youth, and at present he has an extraordinary good aspect, and perfectly the air of a man of high Quality, such as he is. And though he has receiv'd a wound with an arrow under his eye in a very dangerous occasion, yet he is very little alter'd by it. He has flaxen hair, blew eyes, the form of his visage is agreeable, and all the lineaments regular enough; he has a certain serious air, accom∣pani'd with a sweetness perfectly noble, which causes a good opinion of him at first sight. His looks are sometimes very passionate when he pleases, and there are handsomer eyes than his which are not so proper for a certain mute language which love alone has the priviledge to teach. Moreover, Cleander's very si∣lence is so ingenious, that never any person seem'd so much with speaking so little. And indeed he has a great Wit, which being facile and easie, he complies with the most ignorant and tedious without appearing such himself. So that they who have not a very discerning judgment, would suspect him not able to do much hurt with it. But this facility is an effect of the highest pru∣dence and understanding in the world. He has the most free and civil deportment that ever was, yet his civility does not hinder him from preserving a high and noble way of carriage which renders him more agreeable to others and more worthy of his condition. All his Ge∣stures have a certain gallant air which pleases infinitely; so that having a Soul by Nature perfectly passionate, he is very apt both to be sensible of and to excite great passions; for he knows all the violence, delicacy, and Mystery of Loves better than Vulgar Lovers. But to pass from agreeable to Heroical Qualities, he is Ho∣norable, sincere, generous, and as good a friend as is possible to be; and whoso has oblig'd him to pro∣mise his friendship, may be assur'd he will never fail in it. Moreover, his heart is fill'd with the most true and solid glory in the World. So that in occasions where it is to be obtain'd, or that which he has already gotten is to be upheld, this man whom I have repre∣sented to you so gentle, so facile, and so complacent, is the most fierce and resolute in the World. As for his courage, he has as much as any man; so that this being joyn'd to his wit and other accomplishments, makes it apparent that there is no imployment how great soever of which he is not capable and worthy; and he gives cause to believe that if there be any man in the world who would not alter his deportment towards his Friends in an extraordinary advancement of fortune, it is certainly himself. His conversation is not only agreeable, but charming; for he enters into the sentiments of those to whom he speaks with∣out any affectation, and conforms thereto with ad∣dress; by which means he insensibly insinuates into the hearts of people; and such a person as sometimes believ'd he was only an acquaintance, has sound soon after that he had a great interest in his affecti∣on. He is courteous even in the least concernments, and his gentleness, pity, and gratitude extend even to the smallest Animals. For he loves to observe their natures, goodness, and agreeableness, and in∣dustry; he admires that rational instinct which guides them so accurately, he is delighted with their kind∣ness, he has compassion of those that are miserable; because whatever suffers, excites his pity. He is alike fit for the conversation of Ladies and men, and he writes so admirably well, and in so elegant and gallant a strain, and so much becoming a man of Qua∣lity, that his Letters cause such as see them to wish they could write the like. In fine, his merit is so great that the charming Clarista niece of the admira∣ble Amalthea (whose name you cannot but know) minding to use railery with him and to disparage his conversation, could only reproach him that he some∣times lov'd to recount things past rather than to speak of things present. Thus I have given you such an ac∣count as I could of this illustrious Friend of Amalthea; whom I could have lov'd, if he had lov'd me. How∣ever, having affairs in Sicily, and a brother who af∣ter several adventures is come to live at Praeneste, I took a journey to see him, and I am resoly'd to de∣mand, Whether I shall never be lov'd but by people whom I cannot love. Aretaphile spoke this so grace∣fully, that if at the same moment one had not call'd her to go know what she desir'd to understand, Amilcar could scarce have contain'd from speaking some kind of blandishments to her, though he had resolv'd to love Plotina eternally. But Aretaphile left him and went to inquire her Destiny of him who perform'd the Ceremony and expounded the Lots, who said to her,

Thank the Gods, Daughter; for if you were lov'd by one whom you could love, you would be the most miserable person in the World; be∣cause you would always love more than you would be lov'd again. Therefore prepare your self to love nothing but liberty if you desire to be happy.

Anacreon was call'd next, and askt Fortune whether he should live always in joy. The Soothsayer having consider'd the several Tablets, answer'd him. And ac∣cordingly the event verifi'd the prediction of the Lots, for Anacreon dy'd afterward at a Feast, where he was choak'd by the grain of a Grape. After Anacreon, Scaurus was caus'd to enter with his Machine, who with an air serious and mocking together, askt if there were any means for him to become such a person as his Picture, and to resemble his Picture once again. Being the Priests were oblig'd to answer to all Questi∣ons, the Lots were drawn, and the old Soothsayer in∣terpreting them, answer'd him in these terms:

You know not what you ask when you desire to become again what you have been. Which if you were, you would be young and handsome, you would dance well, you would be an excellent Painter, you would be active and agreeable, but withal, you would be nothing but a Gallant wan∣ton, who had only made Sonnets upon Iris or Clymene, and your Reputation would be cir∣cumscrib'd in the number of your Friends. But by the change hapned in your person, your mind being excited to make amends for the loss of your beauty, is become such as you now enjoy, and has now so exalted you above the common sort of men, that you are the Phoenix of your Species. Your Works please the whole World by their ingenious mirth and elegancy. Desire therefore only to be such as you are, and be contented that the

Gods in giving you Lyriana have given you a thousand times more than they have taken from you, even though you had been more amiable than Paris.

After this Scaurus retir'd, saying, the Lots of Praeneste taught him nothing, and he knew before all that they told him. Then the fair Lyriana was call'd, who would propound no Question though her name was written. For having well consider'd (said she to the Priest) If it be decreed for me to be happy, I shall be so infallibly; and if any infelicity is to befall me, I will not know it before it happen. What you say is so well reason'd (answer'd the sage Soothsayer) that I doubt not but you will always be as happy as you de∣serve to be. Next came Amilcar's turn, who deman∣ded, whether he should dye in Africk or in Italy; and the Soothsayer answer'd him,

In Italy.

Whereupon he was very joyful, imagining that the voyage which he design'd to make into Africk would not be long. After this, Acrisius askt whether he should ever possess Plotina: and the Soothsayer ha∣ving consider'd the Tablets, told him,

Such as speak too much, never perswade.

Then Damon the constant Pythagorean propos'd two que∣stions. One, whether his Mistress would always slight him; and the other, what he should become first of all when he dy'd. But after the Child had drawn the Tablets, the Soothsayer expounded them in this sort.

Your Mistress will always do you justice; you shall dye but once, and you shall be as all other men are when they depart this life; for the Disciples of Pythagoras have no particular priviledge.

Damon seem'd so offended with this answer, that he said aloud as he went forth of the Temple, Amilcar had brib'd the Soothsayer, and the Lots of Praeneste were nothing but a cheat. Amilcar laugh'd at his choler, and made pleasant railery upon the discontent which Damon resented, for that it was told him he should dye but once. Yet he went to supper with Damon, who invited him, for he was so scrupulous an observer of all the Documents of Pythagoras, that he would not go to bed with a sentiment of hatred in his heart towards his Rival; at least he profess'd so. Herminius, Anacreon, Theanor, and Aemilius were present at this entertainment. Amilcar was very jo∣vial this evening; yet now and then he seem'd a little pensive. An hour after the repast, he began to be indispos'd, but in so violent a manner that he dy'd the next day, but with admirable constancy, sending com∣mendations to all his Friends, and particularly to Plotina. He encharg'd Herminius with many gene∣rous expressions to all those he had lov'd, and a thou∣sand dear commendations unto his Mistress. And thus dy'd the agreeable Amilcar, regretted by all who had known him. Herminius, and a Lady that was his Friend, and another Person of Quality undertook to gather together all the ingenious Composures which he had written; and some time after he erected a mo∣nument for him, whereon was engrav'd an Epitaph made upon this Illustrious Deceased, by a Lady who was Friend to Amilcar and Herminius.

EPITAPH.

THis Tomb the fam'd Amilcar doth enshrine, Who to a sprightly Genius Art did joyn; Whose lofty Soul to' unfathom'd heights could fly, Yet fall as low as complacence can lie. But what's most strange, he that rare talent got To please, he pleas'd even those who lov'd him not.

All such as had only seen him at the Temple of For∣tune, regretted him with a sensible sorrow. Anacreon lamented him (though he did not think himself capable of grief) and profess'd he never knew a more agreea∣ble Wit in any place of the World. Acrisius too (as much his Rival as he was) seem'd mov'd with his loss. But as for Damom, he was so unhappy as to be suspe∣cted of having caus'd him to be poyson'd. But how∣ever, Amilcar dy'd and confirm'd the credit of the Lots of Praeneste, which told him he should not dye in Africk, and which he constru'd to his own advantage. Yet it was but a bare supicion: for the Friends of Amilcar did not judge fit rashly to search into such a business as this, which should it have been true, would have nothing profited the illustrious Deceased. But whilst things pass'd thus at Praeneste, and Amilcar and Lucilius were expecting to see whether he that desir'd to consult his fortune in private were Mutius or no, Aronces was very unhappy in his prison, and in a desperate condition; Sextus was much discontented for having fail'd of his design to carry Clelia away, and studi'd only to find ways for a second attempt; Tullia was contriving to destroy Aronces and Clelia, Tarquin only to find means to recover his Throne, Galerita and the Princess of the Leontines how to serve Aronces and Clelia, Artemidorus thought only of his happiness and to protect Aronces, Zenocrates of nothing but his jealousie, Themistus of returning assoon as Aronces should be out of danger, Publicola of assuring the Peace, and Horatius of his love. In the mean time the prudent Roman who went to conduct the twenty fair Roman Ladies to Porsenna, being on the way to the Camp, saw himself attaqu'd by Sextus, who with a hundred Horse attempted a second time to carry away Clelia. The convoy of these fair Vir∣gins consisted of fifty men, so that the number was ve∣ry unequal. Besides, he who commanded them being an old man could not encourage his Party by his own example with the same ardour as Sextus did, whose courage too was augmented by his love. Yet this Prince was disguis'd, For the enterprise was made with Tullia's consent, who in giving satisfaction to Sextus intended to perswade Porsenna that the Friends of Aronces had convey'd away this fair Lady for fear she should bear witness against Aronces; and conse∣quently by this artifice to hasten the ruine of this great Prince. And indeed Sextus had the success he desir'd at first; for whilst those fifty Romans were fighting against his men, he caus'd him to be slain who drove the Chariot in which Clelia, Valeria, Hermilia, and Plotina were, and then ordering a man design'd for that purpose to take his place, he made the Chariot be driven into the way leading to Tarquinia, himself with twenty others guarding it, whilest the rest of his followers detain'd the Romans in fight to amuse them. And this design succeeded accordingly; for the Ro∣mans seeing the whole body of Chariots stopt, did not miss that in which Clelia was. Sextus now believing

nothing could obstruct his happiness, Clelia, Valeria, Plotina, and Hermilia were forc'd to cry out; but their cries were not heard. But though Sextus was sufficiently disguis'd, yet Clelia did not doubt but that it was he who carri'd her away. Wherefore coura∣geously resolving upon death, she only devis'd how to effect it, so to prevent all the unhappinesses which she had cause to fear. On the other side the fight was sufficiently sharp in the place where the rest of the Roman Ladies were, who were so terrifi'd that they did not perceive Clelia was carri'd away. In the mean time the wise Roman who conducted the Hostages ha∣ving sent to Rome to desire succour, it hapned that he who was sent thither met Horatius standing at the Gate with Octavius. Who being advertis'd of the business sent to give notice of it to the Consuls; but themselves not waiting for the succour which they presum'd would be sent, immediately took Horse and speeded to the place where the fight was. But as they were going thither, they beheld upon a little hill the Chariot in which Clelia was guarded by Sextus, who was by this time a good distance off. Wherefore ima∣gining that this might be the Chariot that carried the Persons they lov'd, they went first to the Chariots which were stopt, where not finding what they sought, they hastned to the place of the fight; but in stead of staying there, I beseech you (said Horatius to four or five Romans who were nearest him) come help us to deliver the Daughters of Clelius, she of Publicola, and the sister of Brutus out of the hands of their Ravishers. At these words these Romans without de∣lay follow'd Horatius and Octavius, and left their Companions sufficiently employ'd in sustaining the charge of the Tarquinians. But though Horatius, Octavius, with these five Romans rid with full speed, they could not have overtaken Sextus if it had not by good hap fell out that in the haste this violent Prince made his Party to march, they mistook one way for another. So that being engag'd in a place where great Trees had been by chance beat down, which obstructed the passage, he was necessitated to return back again and come towards them who pursu'd him. Nevertheless, when he saw they were few in number, he was not much dejected, but leaving four of his men to guard the Chariot, he came up to them which pursu'd him with a resolution which his confidence in the inequality of number made something Heroical. Clelia and her companions lookt out with great grief and small hope upon those who came to succour them. But their sentiments were very confus'd, when they knew Horatius and Octavius; for in what danger so∣ever Clelia was, death would have been sweeter to her than to have an obligation to Horatius; and on the other side, seeing her Brother in so eminent a jeopardy, she could not but resent great inquietude. Hermilia (as indifferent as she was to all things) was troubled at it; and Valeria and Plotina without much deliberating, made Vows for their Protectors. Ho∣ratius beholding Sextus disguis'd, did not doubt but it was he who was the Ringleader of the enter∣prise. Wherefore approaching him with his sword drawn, Who are you? (cry'd he) I am come to pu∣nish you for your villany. And with these words he made such a pass upon him, that if he had not a∣voided it by retiring back, he had been slain by the first blow. But immediately this valiant Roman saw himself engag'd in the midst of half Sextus's party, whilst Octavius encountred the rest with incredible Valour. It was not long before two of those who follow'd Horatius and Octavius were slain, so that there were but five left against a number three times as great. 'Tis true, Horatius kill'd two, and Octavi∣us wounded three of them; but one of Sextus follow∣ers who aim'd only to make his Master victor by what way soever it were, endeavour'd chiefly to kill or at least to wound the horses of Horatius and Octavius. So that in a little time these two courageous persons not doubting such a baseness, and minding only the assailing of their enemies and their own defence, per∣ceiv'd that their horses fail'd them, and saw them∣selves dismounted and consequently in great dan∣ger, especially Horatius, whose sword was broken by the fall of his horse. However, in this conditi∣on he did prodigious things; and Octavius having disentangled himself disputed both his life and his li∣berty. But fifteen or sixteen horsemen against two on foot being a number too unequal (for the three others who remain'd fled, when they saw them fall) they were at length over-power'd. Yet they were woun∣ded but very slightly; but the sword of Horatius be∣ing broken off at the hilt, he was taken prisoner by Sextus. So that Octavius being now all alone, was no longer able to resist the force of the enemies, but was disarm'd and taken as well as Horatius. Sextus be∣ing over-joy'd with his victory took his Vizard off his face, and shew'd himself to them he had overcome, as it were insulting the more over their misfortune. Ah, Villain! (cri'd Horatius when he knew him) is it possible that I am overcome by thee! However, do not hope to enjoy thy Victory (added he) the Gods are too just; and these stones shall sooner be chang'd into Soldiers than heaven will permit thee to be master of the destiny of Horatius and so many vertuous per∣sons. Sextus smil'd at this speech of Horatius with∣out answering to it, and inhumanely caus'd this gene∣rous Heroe to be ty'd behind one of his men; treating Octavius a little better because he was Clelia's bro∣ther: after which he began to proceed on his way.

The grief of Clelia and her companions was now so vehement, that they were not able to complain; but Sextus had scarce time to think that he was going to have the joy to put Horatius into the power of Tar∣quin and Tullia, that he had Clelia in his hands, and that this carrying her away would hasten the death of Aronces, but he beheld this Prince at the entrance of a little Wood through which he was to pass, and be∣held him in the head of ten men of quality, amongst which was Telanus, Plotina's Lover. This sight so surpriz'd him, that he caus'd his men to make a halt. On the other side when Horatius (who was extremely dejected for having been overcome in the sight of Cle∣lia) saw Aronces, he was strangely abash'd to be seen in this condition, by a Rival whom he was so jealous of. Nevertheless a sentiment of love caus'd him to wish that he might deliver Clelia; but the same love at the same time caus'd him to desire death, as imagi∣ning nothing could be more advantageous to him. Clelia (who believ'd Aronces in prison) was much sur∣priz'd to see him; and fearing he might have the same destiny with Horatius, she had such confus'd sentiments that she could not tell what to hope or wish. As for Aronces, he was not astonish'd to meet Sextus or see Clelia; for he had broke prison only to deliver her, upon notice given him by one of his Guards that Sextus design'd to carry her away when the Senate sent her back to the Camp. But he was strangely sur∣priz'd to see Horatius prisoner to Sextus. After this great and generous Heroe had beheld Clelia at a good

distance, as if to receive addition to his valour by a favourable glance, he went up to those who guarded Horatius as he was bound; (for Sextus retir'd from the first rank to give orders to his men) and fiercely accosting them, Ha, caitifs! (said he to them) do you thus treat the bravest man in the world? In speak∣ing which, he kill'd one of them, and wounded two; and then causing his Rival to be unbound, comman∣ded his Squire to give him a sword and a horse, which was led in hand; and speaking to him, Come, Hora∣tius (said he) come help me to deliver Clelia; for since I see Porsenna has resolv'd upon my death, I know none but your self in the world (when I am dead) wor∣thy to serve her, and capable to defend her. Ha! Aronces (cri'd Horatius) 'tis worse to be deliver'd by you than to be overcome by Sextus. After which Aronces espying Octavius, set him also at liberty in spite of the resistance of Sextus, who being return'd from his astonishment, and having given orders to his men, fought like a desperate Tyger. But Aronces be∣ing animated by the love he had for Clelia, the hatred he had for Sextus, the esteem he had for Horatius, and the desire to surpass him, perform'd such prodigious things in this occasion, that. Horatius and Octavius were astonish'd, though they were two of the most couragious men in the world. Yet they seconded him as vigorously as they could; but being they were both wounded sufficiently with the former fall of their hor∣ses, they were not able to shew all their courage: for Horatius right arm was half out of joynt, and Octavius was so wounded in the knee that he could scarce keep himself stedfast upon his horse. So that Aronces al∣most alone sustain'd the brunt of this sharp fight. Telanus also highly signaliz'd himself. But this Com∣bate became yet more dangerous to Aronces; for they who had stay'd behind fighting with the Romans to amuse them, believing Sextus was got at a good distance, retreated and follow'd him; and when they beheld Sextus engag'd with Aronces, they joyn'd with him. But for that the Romans had slain some, and some had given over the encounter, this re-enforcement (though very considerable) rather augmented Aronces courage, who judging that to defeat his enemies at a blow it was requisite to kill Sextus, he open'd his way to him by killing such of his men as would have with∣stood him; and then there began a furious Combate between these two Rivals. Aronces at first wounded Sextus, who discharging a great blow at him, might perhaps have slain or dangerously wounded him, if he had not warded it off with addresses, and if without losing time he had not discharg'd another at him upon the head, which was so weighty that it amaz'd him. In the mean time all Sextus's men taking care only to defend him, Aronces was continually assail d by many together; but he so well quitted himself of so many enemies, and kill'd so many, that being seconded by Horatius, Octavius, Telanus, and all the rest who had follow'd him, Sextus perceiv'd he had not many more men than Aronces; wherefore feeling himself woun∣ded, despairing to overcome, and much fearing to fall into the power of Porsenna or the Romans after this action of his, he resolv'd upon flight, knowing that he had a very swift horse. And accordingly be∣ginning to give ground as he fought, on a sudden he turn'd about and fled with all his men after him into the Wood and by ways which were known to himself but not to Aronces. Who having lost sight of him was recall'd by love from the pursuit to Clelia notwith∣standing the ardent desire he had to kill Sextus. But for that Horatius knew this wood better than Aronces, he took a way into it, being follow'd by Octavius and Telanus, and hoping to intercept Sextus by a short turn; during which Aronces going directly to Clelia's Chariot, was receiv'd with a thousand testimonies of kindness by her and her companions, who gave him a thousand praises. That which I have done, Madam (said he to Clelia) is so small a matter, that it is not fit to lose the moments which are precious to us in com∣mending me more than I deserve. Therefore it is re∣quisite that I conduct you to Rome, and after that go and satisfie the King my Father that I have not broke my prison as a parricide who would avoid the punish∣ment he deserves, but as an unfortunate and faithful Lover, who would defend the person he adores. How? my Lord (answer'd Clelia) are you come forth of prison only to succour me? and may I believe you are constant to me? I beseech you (added she) tell me what course you took to do it. I was advertis'd by a trusty soldier of my guards (repli'd he) that Sextus design'd to carry you away. Whereupon I brib'd some, broke through the rest, and having found Te∣lanus and a Squire, they in a moment got together these which follow'd me, and I came happily enough to do you perhaps the last service of my life; for as I told you, Madam, it behoves me to return to prison, assoon as I have conducted you to Rome. Ah! my Lord (answer'd Clelia) this generosity is extreme cruel; but to imitate you in some sort, do not carry me back to Rome, but lead me to the Camp, to the end I may serve to justifie you. No, no Madam (said he to her) it does not belong to me to return the Hostages to the King, to whom perhaps they would no longer be inviolable. Therefore 'tis absolutely necessary that I conduct you to Rome, from whence the Consuls will remit you hither if they please: but if you will take my counsel, Madam, do not return hither though it should be resolv'd to remand you; and all the favour I desire of you, if I die, is, that you would believe that I have never lov'd any but your self, that I have lov'd you more than any other person in the world can love, and that I shall regret you alone at my death.

As Aronces was speaking this, Horatius, Octavius and Telanus came to them, without having found Sextus. After which taking the way towards Rome, they met those the Consuls sent to the succour of the Hostages coming to seek Clelia and her companions. Aronces understood by them that the rest of the fair Romans were carri'd back into the City till it were known what this adventure was, and who had commit∣ted this violent and unjust attempt. However he would conduct Clelia till within two hundred paces of Rome. Upon the way there was a discourse between Horatius and him which was not heard by any other person, and wherein it appear'd both of them constrain'd themselvs and that Horatius was much dejected for owing his life so often to his Rival: but at length Aronces being ob∣lig'd to depart, he took leave of Clelia and her compa∣nions, after a manner which mov'd the hearts of all that beheld it; for there appear'd an heroical resolu∣tion in his countenance, though his eyes withal disco∣ver'd an extreme sadness, which manifestly proceeded from love. As for Clelia, never was seen so sad a person as she in this occasion; but her melancholy was accompani'd with so much discretion, that it caus'd the greater compassion. Plotina desir'd Telanus to disswade Aronces from returning into prison; but he answer'd her, that the Prince was too great a Lover of glory, to leave himself under the suspicion of being

culpable. Aronces and Horatius parted with civility, Remember (said the Prince of Hetruria to him) what you have promis'd me, I will not fail (answer'd Horatius) but do you remember also that in some oc∣casions one may be excusable in being ingrateful. Aronces embrac'd Octavius with much dearness, and having once again bid Clelia adieu with the most passi∣onate air in the World, he took the way to the Camp, where all things were in strange confusion. For Por∣senna understanding Aronces had broke prison, be∣came absolutely confirm'd in his opinion that he was culpable, and had conspir'd against his life. Where∣fore out of this prejudice, he said there needed no other proofs, and commanded some to pursue and bring him back, that he might cause him to be punish'd as a parricide, there being no necessity of more evi∣dence. Moreover, that wise Roman who was enchar∣ged with the conduct of the Hostages, having sent to advertise him that he could not bring them to the Camp that day, because Clelia was carri'd away, he believ'd Aronces was he that had done it; so that as∣sembling all his conjectures together, he fram'd an immutable purpose in his mind to destroy both Aron∣ces and Clelia if he could get them into his power. Neither Galerita nor the Princess of the Leontines, nor any of Aronces friends could make any thing ap∣pear probable to him contrary to these two surmises; for they knew nothing of the truth. So there was an universal consternation in the minds of all; for the flight of Aronces caus'd a very bad effect amongst the Soldiers who were most affectionate to him.

On the other side Tarquin and Tullia were in their quarter impatiently expecting what would happen from the correspondence they had in Rome, the carry∣ing away of Clelia, Porsenna's accusation of Aronces, and the design of bribing him who expounded the Lots of Praeneste; and in whatever cases, their forces had order to be ready to march, if it were requisite.

But if there were a tumult in the Camp, there was a greater at Rome; for some said, the Hostages ought not to be return'd more, because it was probable Por∣senna knew of Sextus attempt, and that certainly he would have had Clelia in his power without appearing to have broken the publick faith. Publicola neverthe∣less persisted still firm in his opinion, and so much the more, because Horatius and Octavius could not go abroad this day by reason of their wounds; for per∣haps love would have oblig'd them to oppose it. On the other side, Clelia, with the consent of her compa∣nions demanded that they might return to Porsenna, to the end to accuse Sextus and justifie Aronces as much as she could; for her jealousie was now much dimi∣nish'd. At the same time also the intelligence which Tarquin and Tullia had in Rome was discover'd, and one was seiz'd on who had promis'd to deliver the gate Naevia to the Tarquinians. So that all this together caus'd so great a disorder in the City, that the Senate was assembled extraordinarily, to advise what was fit∣ting to be done. The result of their debate was, to send back the Hostages with a strong guard, to acquaint Porsenna with Sextus enterprise to carry away Clelia, and that of Tarquin upon Rome after a treaty of peace.

But whilst all was in confusion both at Rome and the Camp, and the infamous and criminal Sextus was re∣tir'd to Tarquinia wounded and desperate for having fail'd of his attempt, the generous Aronces over∣whelm'd with discontents was going to re-enter into his prison. Upon the way he met some of those who made shew of going to seek him and take him, but they sought him only to advertise him of Porsenna's fury: but whatever they could say to him, he would not al∣ter his purpose; he also desir'd Telanus to leave him, for fear he might incur Porsenna's displeasure; but Telanus would not. When he came to the Camp, he went directly to his Prison, and finding no guards there he sent Telanus to the King his Father to desire them again, and to conjure him to permit him to see him; to the end to give an account of his action. But Porsenna was so incens'd, that instead of hearing Telanus, he caus'd him to be arrested and carried to the same pri∣son where Aronces was, whither also he speedily dis∣patcht guards; for in his fury, he believ'd the Prince his Son return'd only because he saw he could not escape apprehending; or that perhaps he had oblig'd some of those whom he sent after him, to say he re∣turn'd of his own accord. So that he was fully resolv'd to punish Aronces.

The next day Galerita follow'd by the Princess of the Leontines, the charming Hersilia, and the generous Me∣lintha enter'd into his Tent to intercede with him for Aronces. But before the Queen of Hetruria could speak any thing to him, word was brought to the King that the Romans had sent the Hostages back. Whereupon be∣ing surpris'd to see that after what had hapned, these twenty fair Virgins were remanded to him, he seem'd sufficiently perplex'd, though he wish'd to have Clelia in his power, to the end to make use of her to convince Aronces.

The Senate (said he roughly) relies much upon the Publick Faith, in sending back to me a person who has at least been privy to a conspiracy made against my life. Ah! my Lord (cry'd Galerita) the prince most assuredly is not culpable. You shall see that, Madam (said he to her) you shall see that. In the mean time (added he with a grim air) let the Hostages be brought hither. This Order being given, the Roman who conducted them, and who was nam'd Celius, enter'd in the head of these twenty fair Romans. But because entrance was not prohibited, the Prince Artemidorus, Themistus, The∣omenes, Zenocrates, divers Officers, and many o∣thers enter'd at the same time. The sight of these fair Virgins whom he would not see when they were in his Camp, surpriz'd Porsenna. They enter'd with a good grace, they faluted him with a civility perfectly noble, and carrying a modest confidence in their coun∣tenances, they forc'd him to behold them less fiercely than he would. Yet he strove against this first senti∣ment which he could not restrain, and recalling his fu∣ry, Which of you (said he to them, without hearing Celius who was beginning to speak) was so rash as to contrive that unjust design of violating the Law of Na∣tions, by departing out of my power without my permission, and rather to endanger perishing in the Tyber than stay in the Camp? That generous design (answer'd Valeria readily, being unwilling all Porsen∣na's choler should fall upon Clelia) is so glorious, that all my Companions and my self will have part in it. No, no, too generous Friend (said Clelia beholding Valeria) it is not fit that you should unjustly expose your self to the indignation of a great King. There∣fore, my Lord (added she, addressing to Porsenna) understand the truth from my mouth, and know, that that glorious design belongs to me alone, and I us'd all means I could to perswade my Companions to it, who knowing the just ground. I had to under∣take it, were so generous as to hazard their own lives for the preservation of my honour. You ought rather to say (reply'd Porsenna) that the fear of being compel'd

by force to accuse a Criminal whom you love, oblig'd you to fly. Ah! my Lord (answer'd Clelia, with∣out being daunted or transported) did I believe the Prince your son capable of so horrid a Crime as that you accuse him of, I should hate rather than love him; for my parents have taught me to hate vice, even upon the Throne. But, my Lord, I went out of your Camp for no other cause but for that I was ad∣vertis'd Sextus design'd to carry me away. So that believing nothing ought to be so dear to me as the preservation of my honour, I slighted death which seem'd so assur'd, and attempted to pass the Tyber. But to confirm that which I speak, you need only ad∣mit the trouble to hear what Celius has order to say to you from the Senate. Clelia spoke this with so noble an air, that Porsenna was astonisht at her great Beauty, Wit and Confidence. Wherefore fearing his heart might become inclinable to pity, if she spoke more, he commanded Celius to discharge his Com∣mission. My Lord (said this wise Roman) I have order from the Senate to render the Hostages to your Majesty, and to tell you that whilst Rome keeps her word so exactly, those whom you protect against her, outrage you with all the injustice imaginable. For Sextus yesterday attempted to have carri'd away Cle∣lia, and with a hundred Horse attaqued those that guarded her under my command. At first he appear'd disguis'd, but afterwards he made himself known. Ho∣ratius came to succour this vertuous Lady and three of her Companions whom he had got into his power; but the valour of Horatius and Octavius Clelia's Brother was forc'd to give way to number, so that they were taken prisoners; and if the valiant and generous Aron∣ces had not arriv'd to their relief, Clelia, Horatius and Octavius would have continued under the power of that unjust Prince. But to let you see that he is not the sole person of the Tarquins who outrages you, there is discover'd a Conspiracy of Tarquin and Tullia in Rome, the principal Plotters of which we have in custody, whom the Senate is willing to refer to your justice. All which you say (answer'd Porsenna) surprises and confounds me; but should all which you say, be true, it would not justice Aronces; and if Clelia would declare the truth she might accuse and convict him. If he were culpable (answer'd Clelia) and his crime were come to my knowledge, I would not accuse him, though I saw certain death before me. But, my Lord, my hatred would accuse him, and I should so abhor him, that all I could do would be to forbear hurting him. However, my Lord, suffer me to tell you for your own honour, that the Prince cannot be culpable, and you cannot without injustice treat him as a criminal. I know well (added she) that you hate him because he does me the honour to love me; but, my Lord, this hatred is unjust (if I may presume to speak so.) I knew not that he was the Son of a King when he began to love me, nor did he know it himself; and since we have known it, I never led him to disobey you. No doubt he has not been able to cease to love me, nor I to take away an affection from him which I gave him by the command of my Fa∣ther. But, my Lord, fear nothing from this innocent passion, and be assur'd it can never induce to Criminal actions. I am not indeed Daughter of a King; but, my Lord, I am a Roman, and daughter of a Roman who pre∣fers vertue above all things. Beware therefore, I con∣jure you, to blemish your glory by an injustice. I do not ask of you to reign in Hetruria (continu'd she) I only desire you would please to give the Prince time to justifie himself. I have been accustom'd to misfor∣tunes, I shall know how to live as I have done; and if the Gods shall so please, I shall know how to die too with sufficient courage. Porsenna beheld Clelia at∣tentively whilst she was speaking, and being unable to hinder himself from admiring her, Would to the Gods (cry'd this offended Prince) you could have as well perswaded me of the innocence of Aronces as of your own. For I confess (added he) I find something of such grandeur in what I have now heard, and in what you have done, that to imitate the generosity of the Romans, I will send you back again to Rome, and ob∣lige you to ask some reward of me for the daring action you have done; for, excepting the life and liberty of Aronces, I promise you whatever you shall demand of me. Since 'tis so, my Lord (answer'd she) I desire only the favour of you, that you will take time to examine well the vertue of the Prince, and the wickedness of Tullia, and that you will send back all the Hostages as well as my self. I grant you that which you demand of me (reply'd Porsenna) and if my Son were worthy of you, nothing could hinder you from being one day Queen of Hetruria; so charm'd I am with your courage and vertue. After this, Porsenna spoke many things to Celius, that he might understand more clearly the enterprise of Tar∣quin and Tullia against Rome. Which done, he caus'd the goodliest Horse he had to be given to Clelia, to testifie that he judg'd she had the courage of a Heroe; for it was a custome of the Kings of Hetruria to make the like present to such as had signaliz'd themselves by some heroical action.

But after these fair Romans were departed, Lucilius, Herminius, Theanor, Aemilius the old Soothsayer who expounded the Lots at Praeneste, and Celer (who had been prisoner so long at Tarquinia) arriv'd. Assoon as they came into the Tent, Mutius approach'd, and addressing to the King of Hetruria and shewing him the hand which he had so couragiously suffer'd to burn in his presence, Is it possible my Lord (said he to him) that a man whom you saw so stout as to endure the fire unmov'd in your presence, should be the complice of a Parricide? No, no, my Lord (added he) true Romans are not capable of committing such crimes as that. I would have destroy'd you for the good of my Country, but I should never have done it to promote your Son to the Throne. Be pleas'd therefore to command those who pretend I treated with them by Aronces order, to be brought into my sight, to the end I may cover them with confusion; and if it be needful I will put my hand a second time into the fire without fearing to be burnt, to attest this truth. Moreover, let not my departure from Rome be interpreted flight, my particular unhappinesses caus'd me to go to Praeneste, there to consult the Gods secretly; and though they have not been favourable to me, and I had resolv'd to go hide my discontent in some remote place from Rome; yet I no sooner heard by Herminius that the Prince your Son was accus'd and my self too, but I came hither for his justification and my own; and if you please to hear Celer who has escap'd out of the prison of Tarquinia where Tullia kept him, he will inform you of sundry things more which justifie Aronces. And what can you inform me of? said (Porsenna hastily to Celer.) My Lord, I shall inform you (answer'd he) that they which depose against the Prince were prisoners with me, and to ob∣tain their liberty, promis'd Tullia to bear that false wit∣ness. They told me so themselves when they endeavor'd

to perswade me on the behalf of Tullia, to help to de∣stroy Aronces; and I was sometimes threatned with death, and sometimes promis'd my liberty, to bring me to what they desir'd; and if they were present, I assure my self they would not dare to contradict me. But, my Lord, if this sage Soothsayer whose honesty you know, speak to you, he will tell you things more important. 'Tis true, my Lord (said the Soothsay∣er who had dwelt long at Clusium) that Tullia sent a man to me at Praeneste on the day of the great Festival of Fortune, to offer me considerable rewards if I would betray the Gods, and render a false answer to Lucilius, who came to consult them on your behalf. But being I am uncapable of committing an impiety, I deliver'd it seal'd up to Lucilius, as it was found in the Lots of the most redoubtable of all the Deities. And to make good what I alledge against Tullia, I have caus'd him to be arrested who would have suborn'd my fidelity. Luci∣lius, Herminius, Aemilius, Theanor, and Mutius, ha∣ving confirm'd that which this sage Soothsayer said, Porsenna took the seal'd-up answer which Lucilius brought him, and having open'd it with a countenance which manifested the agitation of his mind, he found these words.

Thy son is innocent; thou canst not destroy him with∣out thy own destruction; his love is well-pleasing to the Gods; and if thou hinderest him from being happy, thou shalt always be unfortunate.

Porsenna was much mov'd at this answer, but would not express it yet; and commanded some persons to go forthwith to the Quarters of Tullia to require those men of her who were to maintain before Mutius that Aronces was a partaker in his design to kill him. But he had scarce given this Order, when word was brought him that Tarquin and Tullia were discamp'd, and had set men at work to break the bridge, which serv'd for the communication of the Quarters, to the end they might not be follow'd so speedily; because though Porsenna had another, yet it was very remote from the road to Tarquinia. And to compleat the discovery of all these wickednesses, two men were brought to him whom Tullia had commanded to be first stab'd, and then cast into the Tyber. But being she had been but ill-obey'd in the tumult caus'd by sud∣den discamping, and they to whom the order was given pityed them, they were permitted to fly whither they could. But not knowing whither to fly either to∣wards Rome or the Camp, the remorse of their Crimes brought them to seek their safety in the clemency of Porsenna. And so causing themselves to be presented to him, they cast themselves at his feet, lay'd open the accursed contrivance of Tullia, and implor'd his pity to pardon two unhappy persons, who to avoid perpe∣tual imprisonment had promis'd to commit a crime.

Aronces being now fully justifi'd, Porsenna was so confounded for his own injustice, that he commanded some to go and fetch the Prince immediately. Who accordingly coming, follow'd by Telanus and a great number of Officers, Porsenna went to him assoon as he saw him, and embracing him with tenderness, The Gods and men have justifi'd you (said he to him) and 'tis I at present who am the Criminal. But, my Son, I will shortly make you satisfaction, and I have so ill us'd my Authority that I will resign it into your hands. In the mean time, go forthwith in the head of the Ca∣valry and endeavor to overtake the Forces of Tarquin and Tullia; for in stead of their Protector I am be∣come their mortal Enemy, and at your return you shall know my intentions. Aronces answer'd Porsenna with as much respect as if he had not been injured by him; and obeying him at the same hour, he went forth with Artemidorus, Themistus, Mutius, Herminius, Thea∣nor, and all the rest to summon the Troops together, and left Porsenna with Galerita, the Princess of the Leontines, Hersilia, Melintha, and the sage Sooth∣sayer who confirm'd him in his good sentiments. But now all the Camp beholding Aronces at liberty and in the head of the Troops, testifi'd an inconceivable joy. The Prince wishing ardently to overtake Tarquin's Forces, made such diligence that though the distance were great, he came upon them in disorder, they ha∣ving not gone very fast, because they were retarded by their baggage. Whereupon Aronces charging vigo∣rously upon them, cut them in pieces, and put them into such disorder, that Tarquin and Tullia (fearing to fall into the power of Porsenna, and that he should deliver them up to the Romans) forsook their Forces, left Titus to command them, and fled away by unfre∣quented ways, and went to seek Sanctuary with the Ty∣rant of Cumae, where they were ill enough receiv'd, and in process of time dy'd very miserable, as well as the infamous Sextus. But the Prince Titus soon saw the rest of his Troops cut in pieces, and he was known by Aronces who could have slain him, if he would; but this generous Prince considering him as a Friend and a vertuous Prince, favour'd his retreat, which he made only with five others. And so seeing there were no more enemies to overcome, nor any hope of taking Tarquin or Tullia, Aronces return'd to the Camp; but upon the way he met Octavius in the head of two hundred Roman horse, who understanding that Tarquin was pursu'd, was going to help Aronces to overcome him. Assoon as Aronces beheld him, he went civilly to him; and having in two words told him what had pass'd, he separated himself at some distance from all the rest, and addressing to him, conjur'd him to be still favourable to him, and to sweeten the mind of Clelius as much as he could. Whereby falling to speak of Clelia, as they were crossing a Wood they una∣wares left the great way in which the Troops march'd, and took a by-path which led them away from them. And out of respect there was none follow'd them but one of the Squires of Aronces. They had scarce gone a quarter of an hour, but Aronces thought he heard the voice of Horatius, and a noise of the clashing of swords. Whereupon hastning through the trees to∣wards the place whence the voice came, he saw ten or twelve men dead whom his redoubtable Rival had slain, and saw him encompass'd by ten or twelve more who endeavor'd either to take or kill him. He had no more but the Trunchion of a sword in his hand, his Shield was broken, and he would have infallibly been taken if Aronces had not arriv'd. For as Horatius had seiz'd one of the mens swords to wrest it from him, another was going to thrust his through his body, when Aronces beholding him in this condition, resolv'd to rescue him. What? (cry'd he as he advanc'd with his sword drawn towards those who attaqu'd Horatius) are there still any Tarquinians, who dare attaque a Ro∣man, after Tarquin is defeated and overcome, and fled? And so the Prince, Octavius and his Squire made such a fierce charge upon those that were ready to destroy Horatius, that they chang'd their design of killing him into that of defending themselves. But Horatius knowing the voice of Aronces, seem'd more afflicted to see that he was once more his deliverer, than he had been daunted at the danger he was lately in. Nor was it long before he beheld Aronces kill one of his

enemies, wound two, and sustain the effort of the rest. Whereupon taking new heart, he leapt to the ground to take a sword of one of the slain, and remounting his horse, set himself to defend Aronces; but there was no need; for having slain one, and Octavius wounded some others, the rest betook themselves to flight. Af∣ter which Aronces civilly accosted his Rival whilst his Squire was redressing something about the bridle of his horse. You know (said he to him, preventing him from speaking) when I saw you last, I oblig'd you in the secret conversation we had together, to promise me that if I dy'd you would never force Clelia to marry you, that you would make use of nothing but entreaties, and if you could not move her, not to cease to protect her all your life against such as would con∣strain her. You promis'd this in consideration of the small service. I had then done you; and I promis'd you again that I would never marry Clelia, till I had of∣fer'd you to win her by a Combate with you. I ac∣quit my self of my word (added Aronces) for though I am not certain whether I am likely to be happy, yet there have lately fallen out so many changes in my for∣tune, that I have some ground to hope it; wherefore before we go to the Camp, I will hide my self in the Wood we are to pass through, and satisfie you if you desire it. But, my Lord (answer'd Horatius) what would you say of me, if owing my life and liberty more than once to you, I should draw my sword against you the same moment that you have imploy'd yours in my defence? I would say (repli'd Aronces) that a Ri∣val is not so oblig'd to gratitude as other persons are. Ha! my Lord (cry'd Horatius hastily) I should not be satisfi'd of that, and therefore 'tis best that I yield a fe∣licity to you which you alone can merit, and the Gods themselves have decreed to you; nor was I going but to seek my death in helping you to overcome Tarquin when I met those that assaulted me. But to compleat your happiness (added he) know, that as I beheld Cle∣lia enter into Rome, she spoke so rigorously to me, that I am convinc'd nothing but death can comfort me. That which you say, is so worthy of your courage (answer'd Aronces) that if you will be my friend, I shall with joy be yours as long as I live. Alas! my Lord (reply'd Horatius) I know not my own Will, but for fear my vertue abandon me, permit me to leave you and return to Rome. And accordingly Horatius departing from Aronces went to relate to the Romans the Victory of his Rival. Clelia in the mean time had been receiv'd there in triumph with all her companions. But Hora∣tius (to carry his generosity further) went to Clelius and shew'd him the answer the Lots of Praeneste had gi∣ven him; for he had sent one of his Friends thither, who brought it him back, and which was so exact that nothing could be more clear; for it was in these terms. Clelius ows Clelia to Aronces, the Gods decree so, and you cannot pretend to her without displeasing them. Aron∣ces being by this time return'd to the Camp, was re∣ceiv'd with joy by Porsenna, Galerita, the princess of the Leontines, all the Army and the whole Court. And (to accomplish his felicity) the King of Hetruria told him, that to testifie to Rome that he desir'd to hasten the peace, he would discamp the next day, and send Ambassadors to demand Clelia of the Senate. Aronces thank'd with a joy surpassing all expression. And accor∣dingly the King of Hetruria made good his word, dis∣camping the day following, and sending to demand Clelia of the Senate for the Prince his Son, to the end she might be the confirmer of the peace. The Senate receiv'd this proposition with joy, and requir'd Clelia of Clelius, who after he understood the truth of all things, deliver'd her to them with the consent of Ho∣ratius. Whereupon without further delay, the Prin∣cess of the Leontines went to fetch Sulpicia and Clelia to conduct them to Clusium where the ceremony was to be accomplisht, and whither Clelius went too ac∣compani'd by Octavius, Herminius, Zenocrates, Ana∣creon and his particular Friends. As for Clelia, she was accompani'd by Berelisa and Clidamira who were re∣turn'd from Praneste, and Valeria: for Plotina was so afflicted for the death of Amilcar, that she fell sick upon it, and could not go thither. Assoon as Porsen∣na and all this noble and fair company were arriv'd at Clusium, the Nuptials of Aronces and Clelia were ce∣lebrated in the the proud Temple of Iuno the Queen with incredible magnificence. But to the astonishment of all the spectators, as Aronces and Clelia were upon their knees before that famous Statue of Iuno, Porsenna plac'd his Scepter upon the Altar, as resigning his au∣thority to the Gods from whom he held it; and Gale∣rita put a Crown of Flowers upon Clelia's head, as de∣claring her Queen. After which the Priest taking the Scepter presented it to Aronces, who modestly re∣fus'd it: Nor would he accept the Soveraign Power which Porsenna hereby resign'd to him. So that by this great action he made himself compleatly worthy of all the felicity he enjoy'd by the possession of the most vertuous person that ever was. In the midst of this publick joy, Amilcar had the honour to be much regretted; Anacreon made Verses upon this happy Marriage; and after eight intire days were spent in feasting and rejoycing, Themistus, Merigenes and their Friend went to seek Lindamira, Artemidorus return'd to Leontium to make Berelisa his Princess there, and to cause Lysimira to marry Zenocrates, who recover'd the Principality of Herbesa which had belong'd to his Ancestors. As for Clidamira, though she was assur'd to marry Meleontus, yet she was not so well contented as she seem'd; Theanor and Aemilius obey'd the Gods, and were happy; the other Lover went to travel to cure himself of his passion. And as for Her∣minius, at his return to Rome, Publicola gave him Va∣leria, notwithstanding all the obstacles which oppos'd his happiness. Hermilia had a great friendship for Octavius, and Octavius for her, but married not: Collatina dy'd with sorrow for the the misfortunes of Titus, and Plotina declar'd to all her Lovers that she would never marry. It was known that the Prince who persecuted Cloranisbes was dead: and Horatius as un∣happy as he was, nevertheless was so generous as to take care to cause Clelia's Statue to be erected according to the Vote of the Senate in the upper part of the sacred street, near his own, having this sad consolati∣on, to see that the tokens of their glory were at least in the same place. But in acknowledgment of his gene∣rosity, Aronces and Clelia sent to offer him their friendship, so that after so many misfortunes these two illustrious persons saw themselves as happy as they had been unfortunate, and saw nothing that could equal their felicity besides their virtue. Clelia had a Statue at Rome; Porsenna also caus'd one to be made for her before the stately Tomb which he had built, and Ana∣creon put these Verses upon the pedestal of the Statue.

Tyber, although a God, amazed stood At that great Soul that durst attempt his stood. And cry'd, This sure must some new Venus be, Born from my waves as she was from the Sea. Thy form and courage Fame alike shall blow, Till Rome to stand, and Tyber cease to flow.

THE END.